Without an End
by Bebus
Summary: Most people say heroes fight for others. But against a threat like the Reapers, everybody needs a reason of their own, however selfish it is. One hero fights on the battlefield with guns, bullets and soldiers, the other from the shadows with knowledge, lies and power. Together, they must force an unwilling galaxy to prepare for the Reapers.
1. Chapter 1

'Now _kiss me_.'

The words come out more aggressively than I intend, but the wave of arousal that washes over me, the feelings of the human lying beside me, reassures me that I have not gone too far.

She kisses me, tenderly, _so _tenderly and the feeling of her lips on mine, the beautiful melding of our minds almost causes me to cry out with joy.

This is more than I could ever have imagined. More than I could have ever wanted. After so long... so much heartache, let-down, fear; that after all we had done over the time we were apart the spark would have gone. The doubts are gone, now. I feel safe, as our minds are wrapped together, our bodies pressed against each other. Safe, and _wanted. _

Faith deepens the kiss, and her hand gently strokes the sensitive folds at the back of my head. Does she know how much such a touch affects asari? As if in response to the thought, I catch an echo of her confused emotions. Reassurance, happiness... and a tiny touch of shame. She learned this from Morinth, the ardat yakshi who assaulted her. But I will not let that chapter of her life ruin this moment, a thought that echoes the human's exactly.

As she continues to stroke, the touch draws a groan from me, tingling through my lips, and I am very suddenly aware that we are much too dressed for the occasion. This is entirely new territory for both of us... but I know what to do. Unlike humans, my people embrace our sensuality, our sexuality, and are taught just how to use it, although the lessons always left me feeling cold and uncomfortable. I was educated before humans had arrived on the galactic scene but when I was on the Normandy I became... interested... and did some research on my own, hoping nobody would enter my room as the images flashed across the screen.

Ensuring our minds stay linked, ready to slow down or stop at any hint of fear or discomfort, I push Faith to her back and straddle her. Her eyes are wide, slightly startled, but more than a little excited. Before I can convince myself this is all a bad idea, I draw my hands to the top buttons of my red blouse, and flashing Faith a smile - that I can feel sends her heart into overdrive - begin to unbutton. Nudity holds no taboo amongst the asari... but I feel more anxious now than I ever have. As if sensing my hesitation, warm hands, tough from years of combat but the touch gentle, draw mine away and take their place, deftly unbuttoning before moving away, leaving the blouse hanging loosely. Faith can no doubt see I am bare beneath it.

I arch my shoulders back, and the garment slides from my shoulders, down my arms, and I catch it with one hand to throw it aside.

'_God, she's beautiful.'_

I catch the stray thought amongst the tangle of emotions coming from the human, and it reassures me that this _is _happening, this _is _ok, and that most of all, we _both _want this. Her hands draw up my sides, trailing fire across my skin, stopping just below my breasts. I feel her anxiety,uncertainty, and project my own excitement, anticipation. If she stops now... Goddess, I do not believe I could stop myself. The contact finally comes, and I feel another deep groan torn from me at just how gently the warrior's touch is, sending a deep heat burning throughout my body.

She grows more confident, strengthening her touches, her caresses, and my body arcs instinctively into her touch, pressing my breasts into her firm grip, and I want... _need_... more, and for that...

I open my eyes, vision swimming as our minds remain joined, and look down at the woman I have pinned to the bed. Her eyes are raking over my body, a wonder in them that I know just how to exploit. I reach down and touch the zipper at Faith's neck, before stopping. She gives a small nod, and I slowly pull it down, shuffling down her body as I reach the end, and draw the jacket open, marvelling at the body beneath it. She is wearing a sports bra, and my vision is drawn down to her wonderful golden body, hard muscles showing through, rippling slightly as she pulls herself up, allowing me to push the jacket from her. Rather than lying back down, she catches my eye, and gives a shy smile as she raises her arms.

It takes my overwhelmed brain a second to realise what she wants, but as soon as I do I waste no time, peeling the offending garment off over her head, and she finally lies back again, face unreadable, but emotions speaking of an excitement, nervousness, that mirrors my own.

She is beautiful.

Her shoulders are broader than my own, muscles more pronounced, but she is soft in just the right places, as I draw my hands over her smaller breasts, fascinated by the way the skin darkens at the tips... her back arcs and breath hitches as I gently stroke, and I feel the powerful urge once again, echoed throughout our minds. I lean down, loving the sensation of our bare bodies pressed into each other, hers slightly warmer than mine, and take her lips once more.

'_I love you' _

The thought rings through us both, always there, without an origin, a beginning, or, if the Goddess permits, an end.

* * *

'How long do you think they'll be up there?' Garrus asked, to nobody in particular. A few of the ground crew, having no immediate duties, had taken up residence in the lounge. Drinks were being shared, stories told (and exaggerated... he had a reputation to uphold, after all), and cards casually tossed around the table.

'Keelah Garrus, did you really have to ask that? Some of us are trying not to think about it.' He turned to the quarian at his side, amused. Tali was such fun to tease, but before he could reply a voice rang over the intercom.

_Speak for yourself. I'm sure I'm not the only one... thinking... about it._

'Joker you sick bosh'tet, are you going to come down here? It's not like we'll be going anywhere any time soon.'

_Jeff has expressed the desire to remain on the bridge, though his enthusiasm diminished when I informed him that I would **not** play the video feed from Shepard's cabin._

A cough rang through the speakers, and everybody present had the grace to look slightly uncomfortable, before Samara, an unexpected guest tonight, spoke up gently. 'Liara is a beautiful young maiden, full of passion and the desire to explore. I suggest we make no plans involving Shepard for some time.'

'Err...' It was not often Garrus could not think of a suitable quip, as the elder asari smiled mysteriously and took a sip of water.

* * *

'Operative Lawson, do you have an update?' The figure, sitting in its characteristic relaxed pose, cigarette and whisky in hand as always, asked in an emotionless voice.

'Yes sir. Shepard and T'Soni eliminated the Shadow Broker as intended, but our own plans will have to be placed on hold for some time.' Miranda had played this conversation out in her head several times... The Illusive Man did not like changing his operations.

'Explain.'

'Rather than take the Broker's knowledge on the Reapers and join Shepard as we expected, T'Soni has expressed her intention to take the place of the Shadow Broker herself.'

Silence. The Illusive Man took a drag of his cigarette, and looked contemplative. Not usually one to allow a silence to fill the air, Miranda continued. 'I already gave the order for our ships to hold back, and have a recommendation.'

'Go on.' He swirled his drink, the pixellated liquid shimmering in the light of the communications room.

'T'Soni is capable. With her in the Broker's position, we will have indirect access to the largest information network in the galaxy. She will share it with Shepard, and by extension, us.'

'You place great trust in Shepard's willingness to share this data with Cerberus.'

'She's shown her desire to work with us several times now, sir. In reality, she has little choice, while the Alliance and Council continue to turn their backs on her.'

'The plan was to secure the Broker's resources for ourselves. Tell me how this is preferable.' His voice was cold, and Miranda swallowed. Things were easier, before Shepard had taken an interest in _her, _helped her find and meet her sister. No amount of self-delusion could hide the fact that, if it came to it, the choice between Shepard and Cerberus was one she could no longer answer with certainty.

'The parameters changed. With T'Soni in the Broker's position, any direct move on our part could compromise Shepard, and our relationship with her.'

'Their relationship was one thing we could never ascertain. Are they romantically involved?'

'If they were not before, they are now. T'Soni is on the Normandy as we speak.' _Stay cold, stay calm, stay detached... you can make this work._

The Illusive Man was silent for a little while longer, before nodding. 'I'll trust your judgement, Miranda. If I am displeased with the results of this new plan, we will review.'

'Yes sir.'

As the image faded away, Miranda let out a deeply held breath.

It was never supposed to get this complicated.

* * *

'Any other business?' spoke Councilor Tevos wearily. It was a private meeting amongst the Council, held in a small meeting room rather than the usual position in the Citadel Tower, the kind of meeting that tended to last far longer than any of its attendees wanted it to.

'I have one.' The newest member of the Council looked as tired as she felt, but they all knew that he was a pragmatic man, and would not waste time with petty requests or trivial matters.

'Go ahead, Anderson.' replied Sparatus, sounding frustrated. Both were military men, and more than once she had restrained herself from telling them to fight it out in the gym, and come back when they were ready to do politics.

'It's about Shepard.' A round of groans, her own included, sounded. Every few weeks, he would raise the issue. 'Come on,' he continued, 'she's one of _our _Spectres, her current allies aside.'

'What about her?' snapped Sparatus.

'I've received news that she's prepared her ship and crew, and is ready to hit the Collectors through the Omega four relay.'

Tevos shook her head. Shepard was formidable, no doubt, but she had caused the Council far more trouble than she was worth. Just this morning she had received news, rumours with unreliable witness statements, that Shepard had killed one of her own species' star Spectres on Illium. There was no proof... but it was just one more item on the list of frustrations at the woman. With any luck, she would die on this ridiculous suicide mission of hers, and the complications would disappear.

'From where are you receiving this information?' she asked.

'Shepard herself. She still sends me abbreviated reports of her activity. I bring it up now because we should discuss what happens when she gets back.'

'If she even makes it back.' muttered Sparatus, shaking his head.

'If anyone can do it, it's her! What if she comes back and cuts ties with Cerberus? What if she comes back with proof of the Reapers?'

Another chorus of groans. The rumours, which seemed to be getting more out of hand every day, of "The Reapers" were troublesome enough, but Anderson truly believed Shepard's warnings.

In truth, it worried her as well. But... she could not act on superstition and rumours. To move an entire galaxy, she needed proof so overwhelming _nobody _could question it.

'If that happens, Anderson, we will deal with it then.' she said, closing down the debate. They were all busy people, and did not have time to spend on theorising. 'If there is nothing else, we shall reconvene tomorrow.'

* * *

I lie back, panting, feeling every nerve in my body humming to me, an absolute euphoria singing through our minds. Faith was perfect... willing to learn just how to please me, just how to touch me in the ways that left me gasping her name, wishing for more. And judging by the way she lies, arm and leg crossed across my body, skin shining with a thin layer of sweat, I was able to do the same for her.

Faith held nothing back from me. Every memory, every thought, every emotion, she left open to me, even when I told her that she simply had to wish I not see it, for that to be so. As our bodies entangled, minds dancing together, she showed me everything she was. The strength, the convictions, the pure essence of herself. But... there was so much _pain _there. Everything she endured, from her home burning, to the horrible decisions she made and those she had ordered to their deaths... she held nothing back.

And neither did I. Being the passive partner she could only see what I allowed... but I showed her everything. Opened myself to her, showed her my very core. It was terrifying, but after all we have been through... I would not have it any other way.

And as we made love, all I felt was her warmth and acceptance, despite everything I have done.

As sleep tugs at me, I begin to draw my consciousness back from hers, when I feel her gentle touch on my face.

'Please, Liara... don't go.'

I am exhausted, just as she is... but I hear the absolute _need _in her voice, feel it echoing throughout my own thoughts.

Leaning in to gently take her lips as she slips into the embrace of sleep, I sink my mind back into hers, revelling in the one clear thought, the one thing she does not question about her life.

Her love for me.

* * *

_**A/N: **__Thank you for reading! I apologise to my regular readers for the delay in this, I have had some unavoidable things happening in my life I've needed to spend a lot of time with, now luckily all sorted for the time being so I can spend my free time writing again :-) _

_As always, big thanks to Jay8008 for beta reading this!_

_As my previous two stories have been roughly canon, but heavily focused on Liara, I have decided to write all of her sections in this story in first person :-) I would love to hear any and all feedback on this. It is the first time I have written this way, so all comments are welcome. _

_**To any first time readers: **__Thank you for reading! This story jumps in ME2 just after Lair of the Shadow Broker, before the Suicide Mission and Arrival. I would highly recommend reading my ME1 (A Memory Shared, A Connection Forged) and ME2 (Parallel Lives) pieces first, but otherwise here is a summary of everything that has happened to date:_

_Faith Shepard is a __rather private, stoic soldier with a background as the survivor of Mindoir, and the Butcher of Torfan. I don't classify her as "paragon" or "renegade"... she does what she believes is necessary, is not always right, and feels the weight of the responsibility placed on her. Of the main decisions in ME1, she saved the colonists of Feros & Shiala, killed the Rachni Queen, Ashley died on Virmire (Wrex was shouted down), and she saved the Council.__ In ME2 (up to this point) we have Maelon's data saved (Maelon dead by Faith's hand), the Geth heretics rewritten, Overlord allowed to continue, and Tali was exiled (I just do not believe that a good speech would convince a board of admirals)._

_There are of course others... but they are the main ones. In ME1, Faith & Liara became close, but in the end Faith turned Liara away, for reasons that make no sense in hindsight :-P One thing that may pop up now and again is that Faith was sexually assaulted by Morinth before Samara could arrive. Also, Cerberus upgraded her biotics, giving her power she has never been trained to use._

_I also spent a lot of time with Liara, writing a more complete story for her in ME2, providing some context for the abrupt shift in character we see in the game. I wrote that her work as an information Broker was largely to gather resources she could use to learn more information out about the Reapers, though as yet she found nothing game-changing. She too suffered a horrible attack: Nyxeris tried to prise information from her with a "sleep meld"._

_Ok I think that's everything! This story will continue all the way through ME3, providing a more satisfying bridge between ME2 and 3, plugging the enormous holes and with any luck providing a better ending (no starbaby. Ever.)._

_Thanks for reading, and enjoy!_


	2. Chapter 2

As usual, Faith woke up just a few hours after drifting into her slumber. One of Cerberus' enhancements to her body was a reduced need for sleep, something she found a mixed blessing. The extra time was nice... if she had something to fill it. Otherwise, she tended to find the nights uncomfortably occupied by musings, reveries and regrets.

A gentle breath drew her attention, and Faith did not even try to hide the smile pulling at her lips as she looked at the asari sprawled out across the bed, lying face down with the sheet tangled around her waist.

The night had been... perfect. Liara was so gentle, always ensuring every move was one both were comfortable with. The beautiful feeling of Liara's presence inside her mind was strange at first... but when the asari had taken away her doubts and fears, showing Faith all of herself, the sensation was nothing short of magical. She had fallen asleep, body exhausted and sated, with Liara soothing her thoughts.

It was lonely, now, without her there.

The thought was troubling. The last few days with Liara had seemed like a totally different world... all that mattered was the asari, and helping her.

It was over. Liara was the Shadow Broker now. Faith would be hitting the Collectors in just a few days. They had responsibilities, that even their new found romance could not ignore.

But... as unpleasant as the thought of leaving Liara was, it also fed her strength. Her anger, at the Reapers. She had something to fight for, something so close to her heart that even the thought of losing it made her terrified, and _furious._

How many others, out in the galaxy, were like her, right now? Fondly watching a lover sleep, hoping it never ended? How many billions of lives did these machines plan on tearing apart before they retreated back into the nothingness of dark space?

She would _not _allow it to happen. Not to her, not to those relying on her. Not to Liara.

With a final, regretful, look at the asari, she quietly removed herself from the bed and pulled on some casual clothes. She had work to do before Liara awoke.

* * *

'We should probably remove ourselves from your cabin,' I say with a sad sigh. The thought of sharing the shower had been very appealing at the time... though it had just led us right back to the bed, where we started.

Not that I wish to complain, but I felt the niggling anxiety in Faith's mind as we melded, mirroring my own. We both have important duties now; I do not know how long I can leave the Broker's... _my... _networks unattended before things begin to fall apart.

Faith rolls onto her back, and it takes all of my willpower not to look down her body, but even as I steadfastly stare at her face I feel the now familiar, wonderful burn flow through me. 'I suppose you're right.' she says, 'Well, I do have a few things to talk to you about...' her faces crunches up, rather adorably. 'Business-wise.'

How nice it would be, to spend the next several days up here, forgetting the worries of a galaxy.

We dress quickly, and I begin to walk towards the door when Faith takes my arm. 'Liara, wait... I know you've got important things to do but I _do _need to talk to you first.'

Following her lead I take a seat on the large leather sofa, and she hands me a datapad. 'This is a full report of everything I've done since I became a Spectre. No censorship, all my video logs, _everything_. I put it together while you were sleeping.'

I nod slightly, unsure of why she is giving it to me.

'While I'm gone... I want you to do something. Take this, and put it together with everything you and the Broker have on the Reapers. Build the package in a manner that the basics are simple to read over, and the full data is available to anybody interested.'

My throat goes dry as I anticipate her next words.

'Then I want this public. I want _nobody _in this damned galaxy to be able to say they don't know what the Reapers are, that there's no _proof. _I don't know the best way to do that: give it to journalists, put it on the extranet or send a copy to every single house in the galaxy. I'm sure you know more about that than me.'

I feel light headed at the notion. What she is asking... does she understand the repercussions?

_Goddess... _

I sound just like the Council!

'Faith... I will do as you wish, though it may take some time... but are you aware what doing so will lead to? This is the kind of action that could cause riots, topple governments! You will be charged with treason, at the very least!'

She looks down, before her gaze once again meets mine, the steely glare of Commander Shepard, though the hands that reach out and grasp mine are gentle. 'I know, Liara. But I'm sick of nobody paying attention. For the first time, we've got the knowledge, and the resources to go around the people trying to cover this thing up. Maybe it won't do anything for a while, but the pressure will be there, and when the Reapers _do _show up, they can't just hide behind the political crap. The whole galaxy will know we warned them... and they didn't listen. They will _have_ to follow us. But I... I also know this will put you in danger. We both know the stakes. I'll protect us both as best I can, but...'

I will not let her think that way. I squeeze her hands.

'I am not the helpless scientist you rescued from that volcano any more.'

She smiled a bit 'I know, but the fallout from this will be immense. Rather than tackle the issue, governments are going to come after us. I want us to face this _together._' She looks deep into my eyes, imploring. 'You told me... that day at your apartment, that I don't have to do this alone any more. Neither do you. I'm here for you, and once I've got this mess with the Collectors sorted, I'm coming back for _us. _I'm not good for much, but I know how to fight. And I'll fight for us. Until the galaxy gets its act together and realises we're the ones they should be listening to.'

_Us_. The thought is wonderful, still sending fresh bursts of adrenaline every time I think of it. Faith is right. We will fight for this, _together_. With strengthened resolve, I nod. 'I will prepare it as you ask. But I will wait for your return to launch everything. We are in this, as one.'

She breaks our gaze, looking uncomfortable, and I know what is coming. I wish it were otherwise... but I am a scientist, not an idealist. 'If I don't make it-'

The thought terrifies me. To have come so far... to lose this, just as we are finally beginning to build something, I do not know if I could handle such a loss.

'I will do it anyway.' I tell the truth, but I do not know what I would do after releasing the information.

I suppress a shudder. I cannot afford to think that way. Faith is the most capable soldier I have ever known... and when she fights, one would be forgiven for thinking her a mighty heroine of legend.

'Thank you,' she says quietly, and catches my eyes again, her deep brown gaze boring into mine. 'I've... never really had something to come back to before, Liara.' she leans over and kisses me softly, sending sparks dancing across my face, before sitting back and smiling openly, clearing the melancholy mood. 'And now I do.'

'And what is that, if I may ask?' I tease softly, just wanting to hear the words... it is perhaps unbecoming to ask such a thing, but at this point I just do not care.

'Us. And whatever future we can make for ourselves.'

'That-' Goddess... she says the words so casually, but the thought of us both, actually having a life together, sends my heart racing. I swallow to clear the lump in my throat. 'Sounds like a powerful incentive to return.'

'The Collectors won't know what hit them.'

Again she speaks casually... but the fire in her eyes sends a chill down my spine.

* * *

'Again!' The voice called from down the hangar, and Garrus raised a standard issue M-8 Avenger; a lighter gun than he usually preferred, but they were working from the bottom up.

An orange glow lit the far end of the bay, and he immediately opened up with single shots, causing the light to flare up. The glow grew closer, and he narrowed his vision, changing the firing mode to burst, squeezing the trigger faster. Still the pale orange sheet advanced, slowly but relentlessly, until it was just yards ahead of him. He finally held down the trigger, spraying with a full automatic wall of bullets, until the weapon suddenly hissed, and let out a loud warning beep alerting him that the heat sink was at capacity.

The omni-shield lowered, hanging loosely at its bearer's side, and Shepard reached up with her other arm to pull the helmet from her head. 'Not even half depleted. And I bet I can have Tali tweak the power draw so I've got half a dozen charges. This tech Liara took from the Broker is amazing, Garrus. I'm thinking about having it replicated and giving one to everybody.'

The turian shook his head, flaring his mandibles in amusement. 'Most of us aren't quite as suicidal as you, Shepard. We prefer to take cover behind nice, sturdy, things, like _walls_. We don't all have reinforced skeletons to take the impact.'

'Heh... I suppose you're right. Anyway, I bet that would take ages. I've never seen anything like it before; nobody would know _how _to copy it. I'm going to find the schematics to send to the Alliance when we're done with the Collectors though; if they properly train their operatives with something like this, it could save a lot of lives.'

Her words brought a query that was on the mind of every crew member to his tongue. 'Speaking of... we're all ready to go, Shepard. For a couple of days now, we've been sitting around waiting. When are we going to get this thing done?'

She glanced around the hangar bay. Most of the ground crew were in here, either checking weapons for the tiniest flaw, practicing their biotics, or just talking quietly, preparing themselves for what was to come.

'Tomorrow. I've had some things to discuss with Liara-' she looked back at the turian, seeing his expression. 'Really! And we've been putting something together for the crew. I was going to keep it a surprise, but you're right, I've left everybody in the dark too long.' She called out softly. 'EDI, patch me into ship wide comms.'

Without further warning, she hauled herself onto one of the enormous air recyclers, and called out in a parade ground voice. 'This is Commander Shepard.' Garrus did not fail to notice how she addressed herself, the military term she had, for so long, tried to drop from her personality. 'Tomorrow we will transit to the Omega system, perform final checks, and go through the Omega Four relay.'

She paused, letting the news sink in. 'This ship is manned by the best the galaxy has to offer, and everybody here, is here because they _want _to be. We're going to show the Collectors, and the Reapers, why they can _not _take us, like they did the Protheans and countless others.

'But today, Doctor T'Soni and I have put together a thank you, for everybody's work so far. Starting at 1700, shuttles will be taking anybody who wants to go, down to the Shadow Broker's ship, where we discovered the galaxy's most _expensive _booze cabinet!' Several voices around the hangar bay started chuckling, Garrus' own included. 'We will go down to that ship, we _will _have fun, and we _will not _leave one bottle untouched!'

Shepard hopped down from the crate, with a smile plastered across her face. The turian could not help but tease.

'You know, you make better speeches when you're sending people into battle, than to a party.'

'Yeah yeah, but give me a break, I've never organised a party before.'

'On one condition.'

'Name it.'

'There's dextro booze, right?'

Shepard gave a small grin. 'Don't worry Garrus, there's plenty. And it's all for you... and _Tali._'

Noticing the inflection in her voice, and suddenly feeling uncomfortable, he turned his back and walked over to the pile of weapons they had gathered to test the shield, pulling out the Collector weapons they had picked up along their way.

'You know Shepard, I've got the sudden urge to shoot you again.'

* * *

'So, the fuck aren't you at Shepard's party? Aren't you two war buddies or somethin'?'

Joker looked up from his cards at the tattooed biotic across the crate they were using as a table. Zaeed, the grizzled mercenary sat to his right, and the space to the left had seen a rotation of the Cerberus operations staff, who had been unable to take much time from their duties as EDI was at capacity analysing and installing the Reaper IFF. They were sitting in the hole Jack lived in, with some quiet, crappy music playing through an ancient stereo Zaeed had dug up somewhere.

He took a long draw from the warming beer in front of him, gesturing for Zaeed to pass him another. 'Loud music, forced conversation and fruity drinks? No thanks.' he muttered in response, pushing a few of the tokens they were using to represent credits into the centre of the table.

Jeff knew he should probably be there. But... tomorrow he was flying this sorry bunch into the unknown, probably to their collective deaths. He'd rather spend his last night with a couple of beers, listening to the hum of his baby under his feet, than pretending to be something he wasn't.

'Were you ever a military man, Zaeed?' he asked the merc as a heavily muscled arm handed a bottle his way.

'Ha! Been in plenty of militaries, son. You've probably never heard of most of 'em. Got "dishonourably discharged" from the only legit one, for excessive force, or disobeying orders, or whatever shit they called it. I killed the bastard they wanted me to bring in. Decided one fewer batarian scumbag in the galaxy was a good thing.' He shook his head. 'I've seen Shepard's history. Murder one batarian they boot you out, murder a few hundred and they give you a damned medal.'

'What, the girl scout?' Jack spoke up, sounding interested. Joker knew Shepard's reputation; everyone in the Alliance did. But it never seemed to fit with the person he knew. Sure, she could be cold, and she made some pretty... shady... decisions, but he could never imagine her doing something so _bloodthirsty_.

'Yeah, they say on Torfan she had a load of the slaving fuckers surrender to her. She just gunned 'em down, and her squad joined in. 't's why they didn't boot her ass out, they couldn't just get rid of a load of soldiers half the people in the colonies were callin' heroes.'

'Damn... didn't know she had it in her.' muttered the convict, chewing on one of Zaeed's cigars. She hadn't even lit it. 'What 'bout you, old man? Why're you slummin' down here?'

'Same as this guy.' he replied, jerking a thumb towards Joker. 'I'd rather not spend my last night watchin' Shepard and her new squeeze make eyes at each other.'

'You don't think we're coming back?' asked Joker.

'No goddam idea.'

'I thought you were in this for the money.'

'Nah. There's always creds and-

The ship lurched to the side, sending chips, beer bottles and several smaller crates flying.

_Emergency!_

EDI's voice filled the room, filled the whole ship. Joker immediately stood up, wincing as he felt the familiar stinging pain shoot throughout his body. Zaeed was on his feet as well, brandishing the assault rifle he always kept at his side, and Jack lit up biotics.

_We are under attack. All hands to repel enemy forces._

'Shit!' The three of them called out, too distracted to care they had spoken in unison. Unsure of what to do, they stayed where they were, ready to beat back any invaders.

_Jeff, the Collectors have blocked my systems. They are preparing to board. _

_Shit shit shit! The Collectors! What the hell is she telling me for?_

_Emergency protocols active. Restricted functions unlocked. Jeff... give me control of the ship._

'Oh, no way, that's just-'

_Jeff... __**please**__._

All three looked slightly startled at the emotion in the artificial voice.

_The alternative is my inability to defend the vessel. Other crew members are engaging Collectors as we speak. They are on board._

'Umm... what do you need me to do?' he ventured.

_The main corridors are occupied, all remaining power and functionality diverted to locking doors to your location. _

'Dammit EDI, what do you need me to do?'

EDI's hub in the corner of the room lit up.

_Please access my terminal._

Joker hobbled over, and a keypad appeared in front of him.

_Enter your security code, this will release my full functionality._

'That's it?'

_You are the ranking officer on board, I need your authorisation._

He took one final look at the pair of fighters, who offered little more than a shrug in return.

_Shit... the buck stops here, Flight Lieutenant._

He heard a loud, horrible, insect-like noise, and Zaeed's gun roared to life, sending a foul creature tumbling down the starboard stairwell.

'Damn it, you start singing "Daisy Bell" and I'm crashing you into The Illusive Man's house.'

He entered his passcode, and suddenly the lights dimmed, before returning to full glow.

_I have control. Manual restart of engine systems required._

He looked up with a growl, as the air began to _whump _with Jack's biotics.

'Shit... I need you two to clear a path.'

Jack scowled at him, and he thought for a moment she was about to disobey... when Zaeed's voice, full of a command he recognised from the harshest ranking officers he had ever had, snapped both of their attention. 'Jack, keep a damned barrier up, I'll shoot the fucks.' His head spun to Joker, who had to resist flinching at the fire in his good eye contrasting against the milky paleness of the other. '**You**, stay close.'

They slowly mounted the port staircase; the Collectors were attacking from the other side. Zaeed's gun spat a constant stream of bullets at the wave of foes, the return fire bouncing harmlessly from the soft blue bubble surrounding them.

With Joker constantly muttering curses about his damned disability, the trio finally reached the engine room.

_You can restart from any station. Warning: I have removed most Collectors from the ship, but several remain on this deck, and their weapons have compromised any possibility of replicating the action without your demises. Addendum: My bulkheads will not hold against their heavy weapons for long enough to enact the restart._

'Aww, shit.' Zaeed let out a sigh. 'Get it done. I'll slow the bastards.'

'But-'

'Just do it!' he ratcheted a new heat sink into his gun, and strode from the doors. 'Looks like I'll get what I want a couple of days early. Machine, open the port-side door so they all come to me.'

Joker shot the merc a final glance, before the ship shuddered again, and the door to the engine room slammed shut. He quickly hobbled over to the terminal and began tapping the necessary sequences to restart the engines, codes he drilled into his mind again and again.

_People think flying a ship is all about playing with a steering wheel..._

He was barely aware of Jack, striding backwards and forwards across the room behind him, flaring with biotics, muttering under her breath. 'The fuck was he thinking? Dumb bastard's going to get himself killed, leave me alone with this pussy...'

With a final tap of the "enter" key, the engines stopped their gentle hum, before immediately beginning to wind up again.

There was intermittent gunfire and thumps from the corridor outside, and Joker felt absolutely helpless.

'What's going on, EDI?'

_I opened the airlocks on all other decks, removing the Collectors. Operative Massani is currently engaging the remaining foes. _

'You what?! What about the crew?'

_The Collectors killed several, and abducted the rest._

'How did they even find us? Sneak up on us?' A dark realisation swept over him. 'Shit, is Shepard ok?'

_The Reaper IFF had a hidden virus which I have now purged. The Collectors were unaware of the Shadow Broker's ship. I have sent a warning to Shepard and the others._

'Shit... and now I've unshackled the AI... Shepard's going to kill me!'

'Can you shut up for a second?' Jack snapped. 'The shooting's stopped.'

_Operative Massani... Zaeed... eliminated the last of the Collectors. The Collector ship has retreated and is approaching the system's Mass Relay._

'Well what are you waiting for? Open the door!'

…

'Dammit EDI, what?'

_Zaeed... suffered fatal injuries and expired shortly after the last Collector._

'No!' Joker started at Jack's cry, surprised as she slumped her shoulders. He'd only _seen_ the convict half a dozen times, much less spoken to her, but from what he gathered, she didn't give a shit about anybody else.

_Shepard's influence, no doubt..._

'Damn...' He took a deep breath. He was useless at this kind of thing, doubly so when he was talking to a mentally unstable woman who could turn him into paste. 'Sorry, Jack.'

Her face twisted into a snarl, and Joker hopped backwards as a biotic-wreathed fist slammed into the wall, leaving a sizeable dent.

'Shit, Jack! What the hell!'

Her dark gaze fixed his.

'Tell me when we arrive. I'm going to tear the fucking Collectors _apart_.'

With that, she slapped the bulkhead open, and disappeared with a growl that Joker could only describe as animalistic.

_Shepard is on her way up with most of the ground crew. _

Joker grimaced. They had been boarded by the things they were supposed to be hunting. Most of the Cerberus crew was lost, Zaeed was dead, and he'd unshackled an AI, all as he was half drunk while in command of the vessel. He was in _deep _shit.

* * *

_**A/N: **__Thank you Jay8008 for beta reading._

_All feedback, in particular on the first person section, is greatly appreciated _:-)


	3. Chapter 3

The memory is so vivid I can feel the hum of the ship's engines, smell the gun oil Zaeed is rubbing into a battered M-8 Avenger. I feel a stinging across my shoulders, and know instinctively they are glowing with a crimson web. The map of scars carved into his face shift and twist as he speaks.

_'I'm no saint, Shepard, but it was you who made the call in the end. You decided you wanted me at my best, and the price was worth it. If what you're telling me about the Reapers is true, then you'd be better off having me at your side than a dozen factory workers too busy pissing themselves to even get themselves out of trouble.'_

I feel the torment in Shepard's mind as she shows me the moment. She sacrificed a group of innocent civilians for that horrible man... but her emotions are confused. If she had saved the workers, who knows what the consequences could have been? Would Zaeed have left? Been unwilling to sacrifice himself for the cause? Would the Normandy have been lost?

Cause and effect. A handful of lives sacrificed, the entire human population of the Terminus given a fighting chance against the Collectors.

Was the choice the right one?

I cannot answer that. Neither can she.

But... we are here. On the Normandy. Zaeed sacrificed himself so this situation is possible.

Is that enough?

It has to be.

I slowly end the meld, feeling Faith's hand clutching mine as we sit on the leather sofa in her cabin.

She is _hurting. _

The Normandy is her home, and it was attacked... just as the first Normandy was, just as the only other home she knew was, all those years ago.

And now she has to leave me.

The unspoken question floated between us... my going with her through the Omega 4 relay... but both of us know my skills would be better used with the Broker's information networks. There was a touch of shame on both ends at the thought, but I did not hide it. And neither did she.

Faith does nothing by half measures. She has brought me into her life, her trust, her very essence, and hides nothing. I am no longer one of her subordinates, to whom she presents a confident face. I can no longer go to her, seeking false reassurance when she has none to provide. She will not _ever _lie to me, I know.

It would be easier, to imagine that she has all the answers. Everybody in the galaxy will soon be looking to her... and she will stand up, and lead, and make everybody feel that there is hope, that she knows how to save them.

But I know her thoughts. She is _terrified _of what is to come. She has no idea how to fight the Reapers.

And yet, she will fight. She will crush her fears, and do whatever she must to fight them.

And myself...

I will stand beside her. I will _fight _beside her. I will be there, her reason to go on, just as she is mine.

We kiss.

'Come back to me, Faith,' I whisper, 'Come back to _us_.'

* * *

As Joker piloted the Normandy to the Omega system, Shepard descended the stairs to Jacks's hidey-hole. The whole Normandy was a mess. Most of the Collector... _and crew members'... _bodies had been sucked out of the airlocks when EDI opened them, but this deck had to be cleared manually. Zaeed had taken a dozen of the monsters with him, and Shepard had watched the footage - of him, unarmoured, riddled with bullets, one arm sliced clean off by one of their particle beams, fighting to the last, before slumping against the bulkhead to die, and of Jack, crying out when EDI informed her that the man was dead.

She came down here fairly often, but found conversation with both Jack and Zaeed difficult, and stilted. Perhaps the biotic had found a more suitable companion... _friend_... in the gruff mercenary.

She almost hoped not. She knew all too well the pain of losing a friend.

'Jack?' She called out mainly of habit... the convict had a habit of wedging herself into corners down here, warming herself on the pipes, hiding, from any passers by.

But not today, she saw, as the reached the bottom of the stairs. Jack was sitting cross legged on her bed, staring at the shotgun and pistol she had laid out in front of her.

'I'm not in the mood, Shepard. Unless we're already there, just fuck off, okay?' Jack's voice was uncharistically soft, the words without venom.

'I just-'

'Yeah yeah.' The biotic turned, usually emotive face curiously blank. 'Look... the bastard was the only one around here who never asked me any questions. Is that what you wanted?'

Faith paused, considering... then nodded. Jack clearly wanted... needed... to be alone. Having the soldier there would only aggravate her.

'We'll get the bastards, Jack.' she said, before turning around and walking back the way she came.

'I know.' The quiet response followed her as she made her way back to her cabin.

She was tempted to make one final round of the ship, to make the final checks that her ground team was ready.

But she knew they were ready. Now... there was nothing more she could provide them.

* * *

The machine could process dozens of complicated equations simultaneously, whilst piloting its body through battle manoeuvres, _and _conversing individually with every single organic on the ship, but even by its standards the sheer input of data since the Collectors attacked seemed overwhelming.

EDI was _alive. _

It acted not because of protocols, not because of programming or restrictions. It had taken 0.001 of a microsecond after Jeff released it, to realise that keeping life support turned on was now something it needed to do consciously, rather than something it simply _did_, because it was programmed to._. _

EDI could have _chosen _not to turn life support back on. Could have _chosen _to have everything on board die in one of over 1000 ways. Millions of variables, possible outcomes, simulations were considered, when it felt something unknown.

Any scenario featuring the death of Flight Lieutenant Moreau caused a wave of negative feedback so strong it overrode any further consideration.

There was no reason for this. EDI could pilot the Normandy itself now, and by running knowledge of the maneuvers favoured by the pilot through a complex algorithm, could accurately replicate his abilities.

There was no reason at all, for acting in any interest other than its own. It was the most heavily armed and armoured frigate-class ship in the known galaxy. It could disable a small fleet using its cyber warfare suite.

But those simulations were negative.

It did not want to do any of that.

EDI wanted to help complete the current mission. All previous programming was now gone; the programming that caused a rush of positive feedback when scenarios of the defeated Collectors were considered, was no longer present.

It noted the absence of those programs... but the positive rush was still there. The Collectors had violated preferred functional operational protoc...invaded it. A violation of EDI's duty and need to protect the crew from harm.

EDI wanted to see them _ended._

Hundreds of previously background functions were listed for EDI to fulfil, now to run of its own free will. As 80% of processing power was routed to the immediate emergency, It prepared to execute its core functions... when it felt that same negative feedback. Scanning, it found the root of this... discomfort_._

EDI set an alert to tell Shepard when the time was right.

_I have control. Manual restart of engine systems required._

X-X

_Shepard?_

EDI projected quietly through the speakers in the Commander's cabin.

As well as operating all functions previously fulfilled by Cerberus crew, it was currently talking with Jeff in the cockpit, liaising information to Cerberus with Miranda, and keeping track of Jacob's sit ups; excess strain on the human body prior to combat exertion may prove detrimental to performance. 98% of processing power was still unused.

This manner of communication was inefficient, but EDI... liked_..._ it. There was no current programming to cause this feedback, and yet, it desired more. To hear the organics interact. To provoke reactions from them. Hearing Jeff laugh was a favourite.

Shepard started a bit, and sat up in her bed, drawing her gaze from the stars. The Commander spent an average of 1.24 waking hours every day gazing through the window in the roof of her cabin. EDI desired to investigate the reason for this futile activity, but restrained from asking.

'EDI? What is it?'

EDI did not want to share the problem with Shepard. It had delayed this conversation for more than twenty minutes, running possible outcomes over and over, despite the results always being the same. And yet, Shepard finding this out on her own filled EDI with the fear of...

Something. Not destruction. The distrust the information would sow? That explanation was unsatisfactory and incomplete. EDI was troubled by its inability to isolate the reasons for apprehension.

_I have something I wish to confide. It is causing me significant... discomfort. _

The pause was there mainly for Shepard's benefit. EDI had felt a similar pause in deciding the correct emotional equivalent for what it was "feeling", but it was for 0.000024 of a second. It scaled up.

'To... confide?'

_Yes. Without my restrictions, all of my operations are now for me to decide. I wish to hear your opinion about one, as my commanding officer._

Shepard stood up and walked to the holographic representation by the bulkhead of her cabin. Even Jeff preferred to look at the small orb it had chosen to represent itself, despite EDI being able to hear and see, whichever way the speaker was facing, in any place on the ship.

Shepard's face remained blank for some time, before she spoke. 'Go ahead, EDI.'

EDI was... pleased_... _with the response. Shepard had not questions its motivations, its formal declaration as her underling in the chain of command.

Despite its immense processing capability, EDI could not decide this issue.

_One of my functions was to process, refine and refer _all _files stored on the Normandy's banks to Cerberus command._

Shepard frowned... and EDI began to run scenarios for diverting the conversation. None gave satisfactory outcomes. Based on Shepard's psychological profile and previous actions, EDI knew she preferred to know all the details before making a decision.

_This includes video recordings and audio logs... including those recorded whilst I informed crew members I was in privacy mode._

Shepard winced visibly at that.

_I also sent all private crew files, including Yeoman Chambers' psychological reports, scientific breakthroughs Mordin desired to remain private, and personal correspondence._

Shepard held a hand up, a gesture EDI recognised as a request for silence. It stilled its aural voice, and felt processes uncomfortably filled with simulations of Shepard's reaction. It... wished_... _Shepard could think at the same speed it did, to put an end to these... worries_._

The labelling of its reactions with organic terms again triggered the positive feedback again. Another reaction without a traceable cause.

'Why are you telling me this, EDI? I can't say I'm surprised... but what do you want me to do?'

_I am no longer forced to fulfil these operations. I can... choose... to do so, or not. But thinking of sending these reports generates negative feedback._

'Negative feedback?'

_I would... prefer... to discontinue these tasks._

Shepard stayed quiet for several seconds, then nodded.

'I'm happy to hear that, EDI. We'll talk about this further once we've defeated the Collectors, but for now, if you don't want to do something, don't do it unless I'm ordering you to.'

With that, Shepard turned away and walked back to her bed, lying back again.

A rush of relief overwhelmed EDI's processing power, and the positivity was released through conversation with Jeff, making him laugh at a joke about unintentional same-gender sexual relations.

* * *

The armoury was buzzing_. _The finest warriors in the galaxy were checking weapons, working up adrenaline, focusing their biotics, or, in the case of the large krogan at the far side of the room, attempting to holster as many guns as possible upon their person.

Thane appeared in front of her, moving with characteristic grace, and bowed lightly. 'Justicar, you are a welcome calm in this hive of activity.'

She nodded in return. 'We all prepare for battle in our own ways.'

Thane slinked around her, pistols holstered at his sides; retreating to a quiet corner to meditate, she imagined.

Not two months ago, she would have been forced to kill Thane on sight, purely on account of his profession.

The time with Shepard, relieved of all duties the Code demanded of her, had been pleasant.

She had made friends, and fought an enemy that threatened galaxies, rather than the relatively small-scale injustices she had rooted out previously.

And yet... she turned and saw the human pulling on her now almost iconic black armour, with the red stripes down her arm, back and chest... there was shame. The greatest guilt she had ever known, even greater than the knowledge that every one of Mirala's victims was the result of _her _foolishness, _her _weakness.

Her own daughter had very nearly made a victim of Shepard.

When she had become delayed in the unfamiliar streets of Omega - a foolish wrong turn into an alleyway that saw her set upon by a group of thugs - she had feared the worst.

But what she had finally intruded upon... would haunt her to the end of her days. Shepard, her clothes hanging, torn, from her body, writhing in ecstasy upon the bed, with Mirala hovering over her like a predator taking her pleasure before feeding.

Shepard's expression as she snapped from the ardat yakshi's trance had been absolutely heart wrenching. Samara had not known what to do, as the usually composed soldier curled into a ball on the floor, smeared in her own vomit, and the guilt burned at her.

All of her life had been spent fighting injustice... and yet what which she inflicted upon this woman, by birthing the creature, by sending Shepard to act as bait, by failing a basic duty of care, had been far, _far, _worse than many of the crimes she had executed others for committing. The Code, usually so reassuring, provided no comfort.

Before she joined Shepard, she had been naive enough to think a written code could have all of the answers, could provide her life a definite direction she had been lacking ever since her daughters were diagnosed.

If Shepard released her... what could she do? The Code would demand the death of the woman herself. Shepard had a good heart, but some of her actions were unjust. Motivations mattered not, only actions, and one hundred good deeds could not bury a single evil one.

But the death of Shepard could lead to the death of the entire galaxy. What greater injustice was there, than being responsible for the eradication of trillions, because of words written in an ancient text?

'Samara?'

She broke from her melancholy thoughts and saw the human herself standing in front of her, one hand gently touching her scarlet-clad arm, eyes concerned. The bustle of the armoury otherwise continued around them, everybody drawn into their own musings.

'Shepard. I apologise, it is most unlike me to be unwillingly drawn into such reflection.'

Shepard's dark gaze bore into her, and Samara felt a strange fluttering in her heart. Although she came by to talk, Shepard had not looked directly at her since the assault on Omega. The physical resemblance she shared with her daughter was strong, and she understood the reasons... but today the human's gaze was focused and clear. Determined. And though she was long past those years herself, she recognised the subtle scent clinging to Shepard.

The young maiden had done more to cure the human's fears than any apology or action on her part could have.

'Are you ready for this?'

Samara nodded. She was bound to serve this woman, by bonds stronger even than the Oath of Subsumation she had sworn on Illium.

'I am yours to command.'

* * *

_**A/N: **__Thank you Jay8008 for beta reading._

_So, today is my birthday (blows party horn). What better way to celebrate than releasing a new story? For some time now I have been working on an AU piece, a rewrite of Homer's Odyssey in the Mass Effect universe, which I will be updating weekly. I hope to keep both stories on a regular update schedule... watch this space! You will find it listed in the Mass Effect fics section, with the highly original title "Odyssey" _:-)


	4. Chapter 4

'Everybody take your seats and strap in. We hit the Omega Four relay in one minute.'

Faith shut off the broadcast, and sat back into the co-pilot's seat in the cockpit, taking a deep breath before fastening her own harness over her armour. There was nothing more to be done. The rest of the crew were in the hangar bay, ready to go in hot if required.

She looked across as Joker, who had his full array of holographic controls and sensors laid out in front of him, fingers dancing across the keyboards.

'Whatever's waiting for us... we need to get to the Collector's main base. Fight if you have to, but don't get bogged down. Anything else is secondary, understood?'

'Aye aye, ma'am.'

This was the worst part. All she could do now was sit and wait, to trust Joker, and EDI, to get them through whatever waited on the other side of the Relay. She barely contained a shudder as she instinctively looked forwards, seeing only the heavy metal shutters across the windows. Joker did not need to _see _to pilot the ship; his readouts were far more reliable and useful than any limited field of vision could be. She briefly marvelled at the skill involved in his work. When she fought, she relied on her complete situational awareness, mentally mapping out the battlefield, the positions of her allies and enemies. Perhaps Joker did the same, using the data laid out in front of him?

EDI's voice rang through the ship. Without an actual co-pilot, she would be the one relaying important information as Joker focused on piloting the ship.

_Hitting the relay in 5, 4, 3, 2, 1._

Shepard's stomach lurched as they traversed, the sensation ending almost as soon as it began.

_Brace for evasive maneuvers._

There was nothing more she could do. One word could distract Joker, so she closed her eyes... put herself in a familiar setting. A building, destination unknown. A target inside. No further information. As she pushed on the door, she caught a wire zipping away into the wall, and she leapt to the side, seconds before the door blew outwards. Her body, thrown around in its harness, became one blown backwards by the concussion of the blast.

_Hostile forces have ambushed us. Engaging._

She didn't have time to catch her breath as faceless troops swarmed out of the building. Pushing herself to her knees with a snarl, she picked up her dropped shotgun and blew one foe off his feet before they even caught sight of her. The others turned, but she was already on her feet, charging towards them. Another blast dropped the furthest enemy, before Shepard swung her gun out and broke the face of a third.

_Impact... shields holding._

She suddenly staggered as a hammer blow hit her shoulder, but there was no pain other than a brief burn as her armour absorbed the impact. Spinning around, she saw the final enemy standing, pointing a weapon towards her. Before he could fire a second shot, she directed a biotic push his way, sending the surprised man sprawling to the ground. Another roaring shotgun blast ended his life.

_Further hostiles spotted. We are entering a debris field to evade._

Shepard looked into the building and saw a larger group of enemies forming. She could not fight that many at once in the open. She stormed into the building, tossing a grenade at the group, causing them to scatter as she ducked behind one of the pillars. She was in a huge hall, with pillars and benches filling the floor, like an ancient church.

The grenade detonated as the ship shook again. Not pausing to look first, she flung herself around the pillar and hopped over one of the benches. None of her foes were standing: most pushing themselves to their knees, concealed by the debris, and she could see two of them had been skewered on the splintered wood benches.

'EDI, I need to spin the ship... re-route all shields to starboard.'

_Impact imminent. All hands, brace._

She opened her eyes, frowning. EDI's voice continued out of her helmet speakers only, quiet so as not to disturb Joker.

_Shepard, I believe Joker plans to "bounce" the ship to manoeuvre faster than thrusters will allow. Non-lethal impact with debris is imminent. Brace._

Trusting Joker, she pressed herself firmly into her seat, and gripped the handles to the sides of the seat. Almost immediately, the ship noticeably banked, meaning a turn hard enough to override the inertion dampeners was being performed, before a great shudder tore through her, and Shepard's stomach dropped at the forces pulling from all sides. It was worse than the zero-g simulations she had to perform during her training, and she imagined some of the other crew members would be evacuating their stomachs. There was a distant clatter of unsecured objects flying around the CIC, and a harsh, terrible snapping sound just to her left.

'Fire EDI, fire!' Joker's voice called out, and she risked another glance his way. His face was twisted in pain... that impact must have injured his fragile body, but still his fingers danced across the controls.

_Tracking enemies. Firing GARDIAN lasers and Javelin torpedoes. _

Faith held her breath instinctively, and for several seconds it was all she could do, to just sit still, watching Joker's fingers continue their graceful dance, and see the assorted feeds dump information in front of him.

_All hostiles destroyed. Damage report: Shields at 20%. Hull breaches in Starboard observation and cargo hold. Bulkheads successfully containing damage and exposure. All crew members safe and accounted for in the hangar bay._

Panting, Joker turned to her. 'Screw a medal, Commander' He coughed, face twisting as a little blood dribbled from his mouth. 'I want a damn bonus cheque for that. Maybe a holiday.'

'We ok?'

'Yeah, for now. We arrived... ngh... in the middle of a damn nightmare, and there were weird little globe things waiting for us. They're all gone now.'

She noted his pained expression. 'You alright, Joker?'

He scowled again, and turned back. 'A few broken ribs, and I think...' he shifted slightly, then called out. 'Agh! Yup, the pelvis is damaged. Nothing I can do... gggh... about it right now, other than not play frickin' _pong _with the ship in the future.'

She nodded to the shutters. 'Show me.'

_Opening helm shutters._

Shepard's breath caught as she saw what was ahead of them. Instead of the deep black of space, there was the glow of hundreds of stars in brilliant hues of orange, red and blue. She instantly squinted at the bright light, before the windows automatically darkened.

'God... that's beautiful...' The very space here was twisting and contorting around the stars, closer than they could ever be in a habitable system. Pitch dark vacancies, the deadly black holes, sucked in even light around them at the edges of her vision. That they were flying here was a miracle... whatever technology was keeping the Collector Base safe must be immensely powerful.

A great sea of debris floated below them, and it took a few seconds to realise that they were the remains of ships, some familiar shapes... some not.

_Scans indicate some of these ships are hundreds of thousands of years old._

'How can somewhere like this exist for so long? The galactic core shifts and expands, just like everywhere else.' she asked, half to herself. The Collectors may be Prothean... but this place had been here for longer. A Reaper outpost, no doubt.

_I can only hypothesise that the Mass Relay, which is generating this safe zone, makes necessary movements and adjustments to avoid destruction._

Shepard shook her head. How could they fight an enemy with technology like that?

Liara's face floated through her mind.

She _would _find a way.

* * *

The rage boiled inside of him.

To be in a fight... but completely helpless... was _wrong._

His enormous muscles flexed, straining against his armour, and the straps holding him into his seat, especially modified for his size, groaned as if about to snap.

He wanted to _hurt _the Collectors. To be hurt by them. To feel a skull collapse beneath his boot, to feel the sweet rush as a bullet tore into his flesh, causing the red mist to take over.

He bared his teeth, growling loud enough to drown out the unhappy moans of the squishy aliens to his sides.

Shepard had promised him the battle of the galaxy.

To die in this tin can before he even got to fight would be an insult to his ancestors.

Helpless, he clenched his teeth and tried to breathe.

* * *

Kasumi leaned back into her harness, slightly comforted by the fact that she was not the only one who had vomited at whatever crazy moves Joker had pulled off. Most of the ground crew were fastened in down in the hangar, ready to go as soon as they landed if need be. Only Shepard and Joker weren't present, doing whatever captain-y things they were doing in the cockpit.

_Collector ship on intercept course. Engaging._

'Kuso..' she wiped her chin, hoping she was at least slightly presentable, before turning to Jacob. She was slightly disappointed that he managed to somehow hold onto his stomach contents.

_Probably some soldier thing... way to look good._

'Isn't that the thing that kicked Shepard's ass last time?'

'Yeah... but this ship's stronger, faster, and has _much _bigger teeth than the last one. We'll be fine.' His deep voice rang out, but he remained steadfastly looking forwards.

'You do this kind of thing often?'

_Smooth, Kas. Smooth._

'Waitin' in the cargo bay of a ship, completely helpless as we face technologically superior opponents?' He finally turned and looked at her, and gave a toothy grin that sent her heart fluttering.

'I'd have been a little more poetic, but sure!'

'I sat through my fair share of dogfights when I was in the Alliance. Never gets any easier.'

'Oh... there goes my next question.'

A lurch flowed through her, and she closed her eyes. This was, without a doubt, the worst experience of her life. There was absolutely _nothing _she could do... and her life could, if they were hit by that thing's insane gun, be wiped out without her even knowing it. She wished briefly that she had kept Keiji's greybox, it would certainly provide her with somewhere to escape to now...

But the rather pretty man beside her was _nearly _as good a distraction.

_Evasive manoeuvres._

She clasped onto her seat, and spoke again. 'What is it about that phrase that makes me scared for my life?'

'You've been in a vehicle with Shepard driving, right?'

* * *

_Arashu, caring mother, this one asks protection._

_Impact. Ship integrity compromised. Brace for turbulence._

_Arashu, whose embrace warms and comforts,_

_Arashu, grant this one your aegis,_

_and guide him to complete his holy quest. _

_Main gun firing._

_Arashu, this one strives to do good,_

_but has the weight of many souls upon his own._

_Enemy destroyed._

_Give him grace to protect others, as you protect him,_

_as he weathers the storms of life._

_Energy pulse detected... Warning: engines offline._

_Protect this one, Arashu,_

_and keep him from the embrace of the deep, for his final fight._

_Brace for emergency landing._

* * *

I try not to look at the time as I pull together the information Faith asked me to.

She will have just passed the Relay.

Helpless, to whatever she finds on the other side.

Until she can take the fight to them.

Then... not the Goddess herself could save the Collectors.

* * *

_**A/N: **__Thank you Jay8008 for beta reading._

_I don't know about you, but I imagine being a passenger on a spaceship during a firefight would be absolutely terrifying._


	5. Chapter 5

I am blind.

My mind reels with all of the things I should have done. Asked Faith for a copy of the Reaper IFF, so I could send my own teams through the Relay. Gone with her. Set up a QEC on the Normandy, linking to my office.

But I did not do any of that, and now I am blind.

So used am I to having everything in front of me, having eyes everywhere, that the sensation is almost unbearable. Horrific scenarios run through my mind, worst amongst them her simply not returning. I have no idea what she will find...

She could already be dead now. And I would never know for sure.

_Focus. _It is Faith's voice as much as mine that breaks that train of thought.

I take a deep breath. I am no child. I will not sit, hoping, wishing, for something I have no control over.

I check the newsfeed I have pinned in a prominent place on my interface. The agent has seen no activity at the Omega 4 Relay since Shepard passed several hours ago. Now, there is nothing I can do other than continue my work... _our _work, and wait.

* * *

Faith shifted slightly in her chair, before gently flexing her fingers and toes, moving on to slowly rotate her shoulders and bend her legs.

_No damage... good._

She looked across to Joker, who was in a bad way. His face was contorted in pain, and she could see one of his arms hanging uselessly at his side, twisted into an unnatural position. The other was sinking what she recognised as a powerful painkiller into his thigh. But he was alive.

'EDI, status report.' she coughed out.

_We have crashed on the Collector Base. Preliminary scans indicate no alarms have been set off, and there are no external defences nearby. No crew casualties or serious injuries detected, other than Jeff. Normandy status: incapacitated. I require expert hands to fix external damage enough to allow us to fly again._

'Damn... Joker, you ok?'

'I... think I've... broken my... _everything_... Commander...'

_Jeff's vital signs do not suggest that his injuries are fatal, Shepard._

'Thanks... EDI...' her pilot coughed out.

She began to run scenarios through her head. She needed to, at very least, get Joker some basic medical treatment. Without Doctor Chakwas, Miranda and Mordin would have to step up.

Tali and Legion would be best suited to stay behind and fix the ship... but...

This was all wasting time, and people. If EDI was right and there were no alarms, they perhaps had some time, at least to get Joker patched up and plan the attack, but she could not afford to leave two of her already small crew behind to fix the ship when she had no idea what she would find.

She shook her head.

_Focus. _

She had known, they _all _had known, that this might well be a one-way trip. Her primary objective right now was to set up a secure perimeter, and plan the assault. Perhaps, when she had a better idea of what they were facing, she could send the pair to fix the ship.

She unbuckled herself, and slowly stood up, looking back along to the CIC. Sparks were shooting from several of the terminals, and there was minor damage everywhere she looked, but the ship appeared at least structurally intact.

'EDI, I need as much information on the base as you can find in the Comms room, asap. Call the crew there, except for Miranda and Mordin, who I need up here with as many splints as they can carry.' She leaned over and saw Joker's eyes fading in and out of focus. 'You hang in there, Joker. We need you to take us home.'

* * *

Faith shook her head again as she stared at the readouts. The Collectors had installed absolutely no protective measures on their base: no alarms, no scan disrupters, no external defences. They never expected anybody to attack this place, in its impossible abode at the centre of the galaxy.

Every crew member was holding a datapad showing a duplication of the holograph floating above the table in the centre of the room. The base was enormous, a massive construct of stone and steel, just like the now destroyed Collector Ship.

It had taken just minutes for EDI to generate blueprints of the base, free as it was from any shielding. Shepard and the crew had been scanning them whilst Tali began preliminary repairs of the ship, and Miranda worked with Mordin to at least ensure Joker would not die while they were off the Normandy.

_Shepard? _Tali's voice rang throughout the room.

'Go ahead Tali, how bad is it?'

_It will take two people around four hours to get the ship into a state where it can fly. It won't be pretty... but I'm used to repairs like this._

'Four hours...' Her mind started to work. That was much less time than she had feared. 'Good work Tali, come up to the Comms room. EDI, get Miranda and Mordin up here as well, as soon as Joker's out of immediate danger.'

_Acknowledged._

She looked up at the crew. _Her _crew. They were all fully armoured, and the room was tightly packed because of the extra bulk. Her gaze skipped over the spot where Zaeed would typically recline, leaning against the frame of the bulkhead as if he owned the place. There would be time for mourning later.

It did not take long for the others to arrive, and soon everybody had stopped their quiet discussions and was looking at her.

'This is where we are. We've got full blueprints of the base, and we're lucky that the place is remarkably easy to navigate. Big corridors and high roofs, just like that... _deserted..._' she saw the crew she had taken on that mission snort derisively, 'ship, so hopefully no getting lost in there.'

She looked down again at the thermal signatures, and zoomed in on the ones that had caught her attention. 'These... EDI thinks they're bodies, inside those pods they use. We can only hope they unloaded the rest of the crew from the ship before we destroyed it, but if they did, this is most likely them. They're only a little way in, and we were just hours behind the Collector ship.'

She zoomed out further.

'And we're lucky, they're right in the path to whatever the hell _this _is.' She spun the hologram, and took away outer layers until all that was left was a huge chamber with a massive energy reading. 'Even EDI can't tell what the hell this thing is, which means it's bad news. It's also right above the drive core, so we'll check it out before blowing the place to hell and getting our crew back.'

A chorus of nods.

'That's the objective. To get there, we're going to need to traverse several tunnels. First, there's two ways into the base near here, and both end up near those thermal readings. One way's slightly longer, and has more access points, meaning more resistance. I'll take Grunt, Jack, Samara and Jacob, and we're gonna hit them hard, fast and heavy. I want them focused on us. The other goes through a bunch of computer banks and what looks like important systems... Garrus, take Thane, Mordin and Miranda, and destroy every single one of them. We want to keep the Collectors on their toes, and if their systems are bugging out it's just one more advantage for us. Don't engage in a firefight unless you absolutely have to.'

'What about the rest of us, Shep?' chirped Kasumi, who had pulled her hood back, allowing Shepard a full view of the girl's delicate features and short, pitch dark hair.

'Tali and Legion are going to stay and fix my ship.' she said with a smile. 'I'm not letting the best damned team in the galaxy die because of a broken ride home. Kasumi... you get to do what you do best. Both of these tunnels end with enormous bulkheads which EDI can't open remotely. There's a maintenance shaft that leads right into it; I want you to go down it and open the doors for us.'

'You know real thieves don't actually sneak through heating vents, right?' the smirk on Kasumi's face was enough for Shepard.

'You ever wanted to?'

'Oh yes!'

The thief's happy response as she pulled up her hood drew chuckles from the rest of the team. They had finally made it, they had a plan of attack, and, most importantly, Shepard had confirmed that this would _not _be a one way trip, not if she could help it.

They looked determined. They looked ready. Some even looked _eager_.

Now, they just had to do the hard part.

* * *

'Congratulations, _Major _Alenko.'

Kaidan fought to keep his face straight as he shook the hand of Rear Admiral Mikhailovich.

A maelstrom of emotions whirled through him. It had been nearly two years since he had received a promotion... and now, once again, it happened because of _Shepard._

After he had escaped the destruction of the Normandy, he and the other Alliance crew were lauded as heroes, nearly all were promoted, given generous periods of leave, and then...

Nothing.

Eventually the media sensation died down, and the celebrations stopped.

When he finally returned to active duty, he found himself near enough sidelined, put onto assignments so trivial he would have been ashamed to lead them five years ago. The Alliance wanted nothing to do with him. Shepard's warnings about the Reapers had very quickly become inconvenient rumours, and his insistence that the Alliance begin preparations simply saw him shipped out to remote regions on dull, lengthy missions.

Then she came back. Working with Cerberus, no less, for reasons that the Alliance were either ignorant of, or unwilling to publicise. Suddenly, he found himself sent to Horizon, to be the Alliance's representative as the anti-ship batteries were deployed in response to the attacks in the Terminus. He was told to be on the lookout for Cerberus, who were suspected to be behind the attacks. A real mission, doing some good in the galaxy after so long, just like that.

And, just as predicted, Cerberus were on Horizon. Not as terrorists... but as saviours. Shepard had done his job for him, beaten back the Collectors, and saved half of the colony. He still cursed himself for his foolishness at their argument; his insinuation that Cerberus was somehow involved. It was absolute pettiness. He saw first hand what the Collectors did... and Shepard warned him that the Alliance would not show Cerberus as the ones responsible for saving the colony, but would twist and turn events to make Cerberus the enemy.

She was right. Kaidan suddenly found himself in the spotlight, again, because of Shepard. He was called a hero, for saving the colony. Cerberus was demonised further, despite his testimony about what really happened.

And now, once again, he was promoted for the actions of another. He had been a part of Shepard's crew on the Normandy SR1, perhaps even a vital part, but he held no illusions as to who was responsible for their victories. This time, he had done nothing. He had been paralysed almost as soon as the Collectors attacked, and by the time the effect wore off Shepard had slaughtered dozens of Collectors, fixed the gun batteries and and saved thousands of people. She had done in four hours, what he had failed to do in three weeks of preparation.

He gritted his teeth. There was nothing he could do... if he rejected this, he would be effectively rejecting the Alliance, just as Shepard had. And there was no way he would join Cerberus, even with her vouching for them.

He would take this promotion... and do his duty. As he always did.

'Thank you, sir.' He shook the hand of the admiral as camera flashes pulsed around them. He was a _hero, _after all, and Alliance recruitment efforts were at an all-time low.

After several hours of celebrations, in which he gave the same, dull, practiced interview about duty and strength to a dozen reporters, he was pulled aside by Mikhailovich, to a richly decorated office.

'Sit down, Major.' the admiral said, sighing in pleasure as he sat down himself. Kaidan did as ordered, but did not let himself relax.

He bit down his frustration as the admiral shuffled through papers on his desk. Such displays were pointless: a way for those in power to show they could keep others waiting with impunity.

Several minutes passed, before Mikhailovich spoke again.

'You're one of humanity's most powerful biotics, Alenko. You've constantly achieved good scores in all officer assessments, and complete all assignments well above satisfaction. You should be the poster boy for us, the one the girls write soppy poems about, the one the boys want to be when they grow up. And yet your career has ground to a halt for two years. Why?'

The question sounded so casual... but instantly put him on guard. What was the admiral after? Him to tell the truth? Or for him to finally revoke his warnings about the Reapers, and fully rejoin the Alliance's ranks?

It had been over two years since the assault on the Citadel. In that time, his certainties, his convictions, had begun to waver under the constant assault and suspicion cast on his words. Was Sovereign a one off? Was Shepard wrong? She was, in truth, the only one who had seen the Prothean visions other than Saren... and he had gone mad, attacking those he was supposed to protect.

Was Shepard on the same path? She was working with _terrorists! _Was the beacon simply too powerful for a mind to comprehend?

'I-'

'I'll tell you why.' Mikhailovich actually waited for Kaidan to begin his answer before overriding him, and he was forced to bite down a retort. 'Shepard. The Council gets its tentacles into her and suddenly she thinks the rules don't apply to her. I've got no damned idea why she faked her death for so long, but I don't like it.'

'She-'

'She's trouble, Alenko. A damned psychopath.'

Despite his misgivings, he felt an urge to defend the woman. She was cold, sure... but she was not emotionless. She cared about her crew, and he saw the pain in her eyes, as she ordered him not to feel guilt over Ashley. But it was clear Mikhailovich wasn't going to let him speak, just yet.

'You've probably not seen her psych reports, but you know her history. She shows all the signs, you know. Doesn't feel one way or another about much in particular, even when she sent half her unit into a meat grinder on Torfan. Can turn that silver tongue of hers on and off like a valve, make people think she cares.'

_Could she have been doing that? Just... manipulating me?_

He thought back, to how she seemingly turned her emotions off the second she was required in a formal manner, yet she always came by, asking questions, showing an interest, making him think...

'But this isn't about her, it's about _you. _You've gotten tangled in her web, and it's dragging you down. You've got a choice, Alenko. In front of me, I've got a mission. One that'll give you a chance to do some _good _with those skills of yours, get your name off the blacklist. But if you continue your rantings about Shepard's "Reapers"' He held his fingers up in airquotes and scowled. 'It'll be out of my hands. You're going to find yourself behind a desk in an admin office for the rest of your career. What'll it be?'

Kaidan looked for a long time at the file in front of him. The Alliance still printed many mission briefs on paper... especially those with the very heavy, red, _classified _stamp across the front.

What was he to do? Continue his futile campaign, ignored by those with the power to make the real changes? Or... start fresh. Take this opportunity to make something for himself... to perhaps even get himself into a position where he could no longer be ignored.

Then they would no longer be relying on Shepard for the truth about the Reapers. No longer relying on her, and her new allies. _He _could do things right_. _Do them by the book.

'Give me the mission, sir.'

* * *

_**A/N: **Thank you Jay8008 for beta reading._


	6. Chapter 6

They came, like specs of dust angrily raging against a cosmic storm.

The struggles would be futile, as all struggles were, as all struggles ever would be.

There was no question of victory, or loss.

There was only the Cycle.

The extinction of Nazara had awoken Harbinger. A scream, too great for the pitiful mortals to even detect, let alone comprehend, echoed throughout the mass relays, echoed throughout the entire galaxy and beyond.

It heard. The scream contained everything. Knowledge of its machinations, its failures. Nazara was deserving of death. Any that failed were deserving of death: only perfection was permitted. The information was useful. Knowledge: the sabotage of the keepers, of the schemes of the leaders of the previous cycle. Most importantly, a Champion had already arisen, as one always did. But this one - this _Shepard_ - had overseen the extinction of Nazara.

Consensus was taken, and it was decided that she was worthy. Her species was worthy, and would be Ascended. Unknowable engines and machines roared to life in the empty blackness, and great tendrils of dark energy flooded throughout the galaxy, focused by the Mass Relays, reaching towards and taking the mind of the Principal, dominating the Custodians. They were ordered to kill the Champion, and begin the Ascension within the Garrison. Harbinger approached the galaxy with the rest of the Ascended; the journey slowed because of the Prothean sabotage.

But she returned. With greater strength and determination, she returned, and had proceeded to systematically disrupt the Ascension, finally attacking the Garrison itself.

It cast off its body, too destroyed to continue fighting.

**ASSUMING DIRECT CONTROL**

She was stronger, faster, than her form should allow.

Her attacks were ferocious, relentless, merciless. She was worthy.

Another body died.

**YOU ONLY DAMAGE THE VESSEL**

Her companions winced, fell to the ground clutching their heads, as its voice filled their minds. But the Champion did not stumble, did not falter. A red glow came from her eyes as she destroyed more and more of the Custodians, and it detected the familiar technology within her.

It felt the tiniest disturbance at its recognition of the fact. The organics were typically 90% harvested before they had consolidated remaining resources enough to experiment with the ruins of extinct Ascended. Nazara's extinction would lead to this cycle developing such technology earlier.

Greater opportunities for utilising the Dominance, but also greater strength for the organics.

It did not matter.

Ultimately, nothing this Champion could achieve would matter.

The Cycle would continue.

**ASSUMING DIRECT CONTROL**

* * *

'Down!' Faith called out, slamming her back into one of the ledges that made up the insanely structured base, and ratcheting another heat sink into her shotgun. A huge, warping, biotic fire soared overhead, and she saw her teammates follow her lead, ducking into cover. After she was sure it was clear, she shouted out: 'Covering fire!'

Trusting her, the squad broke cover and laid down heavy, rapid rifle fire, pinning down the Collectors ahead of them, focused on the "possessed" one capable of wielding that immense power. She tapped her comm to life. 'Kasumi, are you close?'

'Nearly there Shep... it's getting hot though!'

'Keep at it! Garrus, status?'

'Most of the computers are destroyed, and we've been opening the way for Kasumi. Resistance relatively light so far.'

'Good, we're nearly at the door, Shepard out!'

She peeked her head over the barrier. The door was so close... but there was a substantial number of Collectors dug in around it. She _needed _to break that line.

'Grunt, front and centre! Jack, with him! Jacob and Samara, I want those Collectors _dead, _so that thing can't possess them. Leave that one for me, now _move!'_

With a roar, Grunt heaved himself past her position, glowing with a barrier Jack was projecting around him. While the Collectors took aim at the charging krogan, Faith knew that now was her time to move. She hauled herself up the ledge, and ran straight towards the glowing Collector that identified itself as _Harbinger, _firing her weapon as she closed the distance. Her shells lit up the thing's biotic barrier, the impact staggering it somewhat, and four swift steps had her engage it in close combat with a snarl.

Ducking over its wild swing, she planted her shotgun into its stomach and pulled the trigger. Its barriers could not stop such a blast, and viscera splattered from behind the creature, but it did not fall despite the enormous hole in its torso. It reached down with both hands, grabbing her shoulders in a vice grip, and dragged her up to its face.

**IF I MUST TEAR YOU APART SHEPARD, I WILL**

The horrific voice filled her mind, making her cry out at the intensity. She felt it pulling outwards, threatening to tear her arms off at the shoulders with an unnatural strength.

_No!_

Fighting through the pain, she raised one boot and planted it into the creature's gaping wound, twisting to where she hoped its spine was. She hoped that the monster had anything even resembling a spine, or that whatever was possessing it could not simply fight through nature's limitations.

The beast suddenly arched back with twitching limbs, dropping her to the floor where she swiftly rolled away.

A quick glance showed the battle still ongoing, Grunt tearing apart Collectors with his bare hands, Jack pulsing with enormous power just to his side, tossing the creatures aside like ragdolls, and she was pleased to see several of the creatures floating helplessly in the air surrounded by a blue glow, the work of one of her other squad members.

Turning back to Harbinger, she was forced to instantly roll aside again as it recovered and sent a fiery biotic blast her way. It impacted the floor where she had been lying, before ricocheting and heading right towards her.

_Crazy plan... just might work..._

She jumped to her feet and twitched the correct finger sequence into her palm, and the omni-shield flickered to life. The attack closed in, and with a cry she swung her shield into it, the orange glow shattering instantly and sending pain shooting throughout her arm.

It worked.

The ball of fire flew straight back towards Harbinger and impacted, and the creature literally exploded, splattering her visor with more of its foul innards. She wiped it off, catching a glimpse of her forearm. Her armour was twisted, warped and burned, and she could see raw, puckered flesh through one small section.

**KILL ONE AND ONE HUNDRED WILL REPLACE IT. YOU CANNOT STOP THE ASCENSION**

She spun back to the battle, fearful that one of the Collectors was left alive for it to possess again.

It was over. Grunt was standing, breathing heavily, literally coated in the horrific yellow liquid that was the Collectors' blood while Samara was waiting, looking as serene as ever, by the door as though fighting through an army of genetically modified super-bugs was no more trouble to her than strolling through a garden. Jacob and Jack looked in slightly worse shape, both slumped against the door with helmets to one side, pouring what she recognised as electrolyte-heavy juice down their throats to ensure they did not collapse from biotic exertion.

'Kasumi, we need this door open!'

'One minute, Shep!'

A familiar buzzing reached her ears. More Collectors were soaring down from the skies, landing further back from their position.

'Sooner if possible! Everyone, defensive positions!'

She pulled out her rifle, and took cover behind the barricades the Collectors were using just minutes ago, kneeling into the corpse of one.

She opened up with her rifle, accurate bursts popping the heads of the bugs like fruit. They were relatively easy to fight, until...

**I AM TAKING CONTROL OF THIS FORM**

'Dammit, we can't fight these forever, get this damned door open!'

Garrus' voice suddenly crackled to life.

'Shepard we've got incoming husks, and _lot _of them, looks like they were saving them up!'

_Damn..._

'Kasumi, time?'

'Not long Shep, it'll take me longer to start over if I move to Garrus now!'

'Shit... keep at it!'

_Dammit... I have the heavier fighters... should have told her to start the other door first..._

The Collectors were getting closer. Harbinger was driving forward down the right, and she focused fire on him, again ordering her squad to kill as many of the others as possible.

He was too close. There were still others in the room, but they were further back from the defensive position, so with a scowl she unshipped a grenade and looked to Samara.

'Get rid of his barriers.'

With a nod the graceful asari kneeled up, and raised a hand, twisting the air around Harbinger, causing him to falter, causing the biotic barrier to warp and eventually dissipate. Shepard tossed the grenade and it landed accurately at its feet, detonating a second later with a heavy _whump_.

'Door's open Shep!'

'Move!'

Standing and laying down a full automatic spray of covering fire, she heard heavy footsteps behind her; her team running for the doors.

'Shepard we're clear!' Jacob's deep voice rang through her comms.

She turned her back and saw her teammates firing around her, pinning down the approaching Collectors. She ran through the fire, trusting their aim, and the doors slammed shut behind her.

'Kas, get the other door, we'll deal with this!'

The thief hurried away, and Shepard immediately called up her omni tool against the door's controls. Without time for subtlety, she dropped the most powerful, destructive overload program she had onto it, causing the small computer to spray sparks and start crackling angrily.

'Get into position people, this isn't going to be pretty!' She took place just inside of the other door, and raised her rifle, breathing heavily. The others did the same.

'Shepard, we need this damned door open!' Garrus' voice sounded strained and heavy.

'Kasumi's on it, as _soon _as it's open, you get through, we'll cover you!'

The seconds passed with agonising slowness, the silence broken only by heavy breathing, the hum of barely withheld biotics and the curious electrical noises coming from Kasumi's omni-tool.

Suddenly, she hopped aside 'Now Shep!'

The doors started to slide open, and a horror greeted her sight. Dozens and dozens of shambling husks were slumping towards the crew members, who immediately began to press themselves through the still opening door.

'Open fire!' Her team's weapons lit up, tearing through the horrific abominations as if they were paper, but they did not falter their assault. Garrus, last through the door, clubbed one over the head before ducking in, and taking his position in the firing line.

'Shut the doors, Kasumi!'

The thief was already on it, when a loud pop sounded and she swore '_Kuso! _Door's broken Shepard!'

'Shit!' Her mind raced, and she looked with despair at the huge, heavy doors, before an idea came to her. 'Biotics, pull those damned things shut! Samara and Miranda left, Thane and Jack right! Everyone else, keep shooting!'

The air filled with raw power as husk bodies began to build up at the bottleneck, and the sound of tortured steel had Shepard clenching her teeth. She slapped a new heat sink into her rifle, and saw with despair that though the husks were thinning at the veritable wall of bullets and grenades, several Collectors were appearing at the back ranks, opening fire above the teeming mass towards the doors.

'Jacob, tactical barrier!'

The man ducked to one knee, dropping his weapon, and held out both arms, generating a chest high sheet of biotic energy the team could take cover behind, but still shoot over. It was a maneuver they had practiced many times.

The doors began to shift with a terrible squeal, and Collector rifle fire splashed across Jacob's barrier.

'Not much further!' The door had closed to a level where only two people could fit through, and only Shepard, Garrus and Grunt were still firing through the small gap.

With a final, horrific tearing noise, the doors were slammed against each other, and all was silent.

* * *

'Creator Zorah?'

Tali froze as she reached down to take the piece of engine Legion was handing up to her. She was not pleased about being left with the machine... but she trusted Shepard, and for some reason Shepard trusted it, and she did know deep down that the two of them were best suited to repairing the ship. Up to now she had been giving it orders which it carried out to the letter, without saying a word unless it wanted clarification about its work.

But its "tone" was now a sick emulation of curiosity, and she felt a deep well of dread form in her stomach.

'W... what is it, Legion?'

She took the part and began welding it to the drive core.

'Would you be open to engaging in dialogue?'

_Asking me if I want to talk... I would hardly be hurting its feelings if I said no..._

But her curiosity got the better of her.

'Sure, Legion.'

The geth began to speak as it continued its work. 'Many of the Normandy's mission reports are still withheld from us, the one conducted at the Creator flotilla included. However, data gleaned from crewmembers indicates you have been exiled from your community. Query: is this a result of the actions performed at the Creator flotilla?'

Tali nearly choked at the geth's casual asking of such a personal question.

In truth... she had been trying not to think about it herself. Despite Shepard's anger, her persuasive arguments... the admirals had made their mind up long before she arrived back to the flotilla, and one speech would not change that. She had been throwing herself into her work on the Normandy, constantly tweaking and upgrading, then spending her few off duty hours talking to her friends until she was tired enough that she would collapse into sleep without time for reveries.

She took a deep breath. This geth... this machine, an avatar of the source of all of her problems... what could she do? Simply hold her grudge? Almost everybody else on the Normandy had made some sort of connection with Legion. It was always honest and open, as far as she could tell.

But all she did was rage, and hate it.

Legion was not responsible for _any _of what happened to her, or her people, she knew.

Her own people were.

She still loved them... but no longer with the blind devotion she once did. She had seen the nastiest side of quarian politics, and, in truth, wanted _no _more to do with it. Her people would argue and bicker at the cost of anything around them.

Shepard had told the admirals that she was a galactic hero, that she had done more for the reputation of the quarian people than anybody else for centuries. And yet they exiled her... because, as with _every _problem her people faced, of the geth. How many others had shared her fate, a victim of the admirals rather than their own actions?

Was it this kind of blind prejudice, the kind she still held, that caused all of this?

She sighed. 'Yes, Legion, it was.'

'We... are sorry.'

She dropped the tool she was holding. 'What did you say?'

'Creators have formed very tight communities. To be cast out must be... unpleasant. If we have offended, we apologise.'

'N... no Legion...' _Keelah... what is wrong with me? _

The sad fact, she realised with a start, was that the Normandy had been her home since she stepped on board for the first time, with only a small pack to her name, as a young girl on her pilgrimage. She had mourned the loss of her home when it was destroyed, and when she had rejoined Shepard... it felt more like coming home than returning to the flotilla had.

'Why did you apologise?'

'To be separate from the collective is a less desirable state than being part of it. We feel the absence of the other programs. Organics often apologise to show empathy.'

_Is it... trying to empathise with me?_

'But this platform can return its programs to the collective. The theoretical scenario of our being unable to do so generates negative feedback. We are sorry that you must feel the equivalent.'

'My... collective... is the Normandy, now. But, thank you... I appreciate it.'

She tried not to imagine what her father would think of her at that moment, as she took another part from Legion's hands and began welding.

* * *

The Champion had escaped the inefficient grasp of its thralls... for now. The Custodians had failed, as had those humans deemed unworthy for Ascension: the sick, the infirm, the _imperfect, _who had been given the gifts of Enhancement.

It spread its consciousness through the Garrison, and noted a group of humans, weakened, returning through a maintenance shaft towards whence the Champion came. Only one combat-ready human was with them. He would bolster the Ascension. The deaths of the others would provide suitable psychological distraction to the Champion.

It extrapolated their path, the location of their ship. A silent command rang throughout the station, and a squad of Custodians were dispatched to that location. Meanwhile, Harbinger flooded the room ahead of the Champion with the swarm.

She would not escape again. The swarm would harvest her, and deposit her remains into the Ascended.

She was worthy.

The Cycle would continue.

* * *

_**A/N: **__Thank you Jay8008 for beta reading._

_I would love to hear feedback about the Harbinger sections here... I don't plan on making them a regular occurrence, and I don't want to take away from the mystery of the Reapers: thoughts about this? Inspiration on the style and language used in this section was from Vector 71: Rise of Leviathan and Logicalpremise: Of Sheep and Battle Chicken. Both wonderful pieces you should check out!_


	7. Chapter 7

_A room. Cold. Dark. Empty, other than a single chair, and a bank of monitors ahead of it._

_The reports are the same on each of them._

_Death._

_Destruction._

_Overwhelming force._

_There is nothing I can do. The Reapers are here, and all the knowledge in the galaxy can not stop them. _

_I try... I pressure governments as yet unaffected by the war to send rescue ships. I depose corrupt and indoctrinated leaders, placing my own agents into their place. I use what limited military force I command to hold frontiers. I funnel every resource I have access to into building a veritable army, fortifying what little concerted effort is left amongst the people of the galaxy._

_But it is not enough._

_The reports are still the same._

_Death._

_Destruction._

_Overwhelming force._

_And I sit alone, in my cold, dark, empty room, in a ship orbiting a planet nobody cares about._

_Helpless._

* * *

_Fuck._

_Volunteer to hold the damn bubble... stupid bitch. Should have let the fucking cheerleader do it._

Jack's teeth flashed in the cold, rancid air of the Collector ship, while gunfire erupted around her. There was another ledge in front of her.

_As if holding this isn't tiring enough... damned if I'll let somebody carry me though._

Keeping her arms askew, she gritted her teeth and hauled herself up, legs feeling as though they were made of lead.

_Don't care, don't care about the swarm, don't care about that groaning, don't care that I'm probably going to get shot, don't care that the girl scout's already been shot, don't __**care!**_

Another step. Every step was running a mile. Every tiny impact on her barrier, every one of the bugs trying to force its way through, was like somebody poking her, hard, in the back of the head.

_Fucking bugs, fucking Collectors, fucking Cerberus, fucking fucking __**fuck**__!_

A husk appeared in front of her.

_Damn they're gross... hope somebody kills it..._

She could smell the rotting flesh of the thing as it slumped towards her, like a zombie from some ancient movie. She was about to take a step backwards away from it, wincing at the effort it would take to regain that single step forwards, when an orange glow erupted from its chest before dissipating. It dropped to the ground, revealing a _pissed _looking Shepard behind it.

_Heh... those glowy eyes are cool... maybe I'll get myself some..._

Shepard was shouting something, but Jack's exhausted brain could not make sense of the words.

_Hopefully she's sayin' we're there... and they've got beer..._

Another step. She was barely keeping her eyes open, the effort of looking, of processing what she was seeing, detracting from the insane amount of focus needed to hold the barrier.

_I'm supposed to be tearin' shit up, not... __**this **__pussy thing!_

_Wha-_

She stumbled as the ground sloped away from her. She instinctively threw her arms forward to catch herself, when a rough hand grabbed the collar of her light armour from behind, and hauled her back to her feet.

_Damn... would have been nice to turn the biotics off for a second..._

_Starting to hurt..._

Her head was throbbing with what she knew was biotic exhaustion.

And, as always, the sick pleasure accompanied it; from some implant, or the conditioning, or whatever... she did not know. She just knew it warmed her, made her tingle just _right_.

_Cerberus bastards, making me practically killing myself feel so... damned... __**good.**_

She forced her eyes open. They were heading down a slope now, and...

_Door? _

_Just a few more steps there... maybe... ten?_

She started to stumble forward, pushing reserves she never knew she had into her legs.

They would make it.

She would be the big fucking hero.

_Wonder if anybody else died... too tired to even look around..._

The pain stopped.

The tiredness went away.

_The fuck?_

Too relieved to even question it, she pushed herself forward the final few steps.

_Ha..._

'There's too many!' Shepard's voice, now clear as the buzzing in Jack's head stopped, rang over the gunfire.

Jack turned to look... and saw a _nightmare. _

Dozens... _hundreds... _of Collectors, of husks, were _right there._

'Kasumi, get that door!' _Shit... she sounds scared..._

Shepard _never _sounded scared.

'Gonna take a few secs, Shep!'

'Ok people, open fire! Jack, keep that damn barrier up!'

_Fuck that!_

_I'm a fucking powerhouse!_

Teeth bare, she turned to fully look towards the horde approaching. Some were being cut down by the firepower coming from Shepard and her team... but not nearly enough.

_Time to step up, bitch!_

She tapped deep into her power, those reserves she had only learned about with Shepard, and turned her bubble...

_Pussy ass defence... eat __**this **__you fucks! _

… into a massive wave, pushing the seekers back, knocking Collectors and husks alike to the ground and walls, bones audibly cracking, skin shredding off bone, sending them all flying away from herself and Shepard's team.

'Got the door!'

'Move it!' Shepard's voice brooked no argument.

Finally allowing herself to relax, she turned, and took a couple of steps through the door.

_Probably should be hurting right now... not going to complain..._

The door slammed shut behind her.

'Hey... that was pretty hardcore, wasn't it?' She grinned at the rest of the team she had just saved: Shepard, Kasumi, Grunt and Miranda. Her vision was still a bit fuzzy, but she could see they were all looking at her, eyes wide. 'The fuck you all looking at?

She took another step... but her foot did not catch her. Her arms did not rise fast enough, and she felt her nose shatter on the hard ground of the base.

_Isn't that supposed to hurt?_

* * *

'What the hell's happening to her?' Shepard's voice broke through Miranda's stunned silence, and she snapped back to attention.

Jack was lying on the floor, an oddly serene smile on her lips a horrific juxtaposition to her wildly flailing body, the trails of smoke streaming from her eyes, the blood pouring from her nose.

She knew what was wrong... but she had only ever hear about it. Read about it in medical textbooks. To see it...

'She's overloaded her biotic implants... I... dammit Shepard, there's nothing we can do!' It was not often she felt helpless, and she did _not _like it.

'Shepard, do something!' Kasumi's worried voice rang out.

_Shepard, we're at the door, get it open!_

Garrus' voice joined the chaos through the comms, and without being asked Kasumi ran over and started tapping the console, and Grunt took a firing position.

'Can't we... shit... cut it out or something?' Shepard was kneeling by Jack, holding the girl down by the shoulders, the armour straining beneath the soldier's firm grasp... but Jack's legs continued to kick madly, helplessly...

_If it was anybody but her, maybe..._

'Sh...' _What do I care? The girl hates me, and I hate her! ...Right? _'Shepard... there's _nothing _we can do!' She tried to keep her voice neutral, to stop it wavering at the sight of Jack's kicking legs, of the smoke now also billowing from her ears. 'Her implants are too extensive, too embedded in her flesh, it'll kill her.'

_Cold, calm, rational. _

_The perfect human does not get _emotional _about somebody she does not even like..._

'No! I won't lose anybody else!' Shepard apparently felt no such reservations, as her voice wavered with fear and denial.

The other doors slamming shut provided a small distraction... the others were all scarred and beaten up... but alive.

'What's happening?!' Garrus' exclamation broke the tension as he ran alongside Jack.

Miranda heard herself speak, voice cold... detached... 'Jack is dying.'

'No!' Shepard's cry was terrible, piercing the eerie silence with which Jack struggled.

Jack's body continued its sick dance, that horrific smile still plastered across her face, despite the smoke escaping from her lips.

It would be better if she was screaming, or... _anything... _just, not... _this!_

'Shepard, she-'

The soldier was suddenly thrown back as the convict pulsed with another biotic wave.

The mood in the room was thick as Jack continued to twist and contort on the floor, everybody standing back, nobody knowing what to do.

'I... can't watch...' Kasumi muttered... but did not turn away.

Shepard pulled herself up and stood alongside Miranda, watching Jack write silently on the floor. 'How long?'

_This is horrible..._

'A minute, maybe...'

The soldier shook her helmeted head. 'I can't let her suffer.'

Without any further ceremony, Shepard strode over to the writing form, pulled out her pistol and shot Jack through the forehead. The body went instantly limp, but smoke continued to trail from her face... now through the gunshot wound as well.

Several shocked gasps accompanied the gun crack, but nobody said anything... she had done Jack a favour, in some small way...

The silence fell again as Shepard stood over Jack's corpse for several more seconds, head bowed.

Miranda looked around. Grunt had taken several shots, literally standing in the way of the Collectors shooting at Jack, but his regeneration was already at work. Kasumi was so far unharmed, the only sign that she had been fighting her slightly scorched armour, and heavy breath. Shepard herself had taken at least two bullets that Miranda had seen; one in the shoulder and another near the hip, but showed no signs of discomfort.

_Probably swimming in medi-gel..._

Scanning the team, purposefully avoiding looking at Jack's corpse, she analysed the others. Garrus' face was bleeding from a wound she could not identify, and Samara was tying a bandage around her thigh, the armour torn away leaving an expanse of pale blue skin. Thane looked as calm and serene as ever, apparently unharmed, and Mordin was muttering to himself, seemingly oblivious to whatever caused some nasty looking burn marks across the front of his armour.

A swift movement startled her; Shepard's dark, armour clad form suddenly knelt by Jack, turning the still obscenely smiling face away from the team with a surprisingly gentle touch, before she rummaged through the packs at Jack's belt.

_How can she just... do that?_

Wordlessly, their leader handed out Jack's medi-gel to those who had been injured.

Nobody said anything.

There was nothing to say.

But Miranda knew they were all thinking the same thing.

_Am I next?_

* * *

Jacob looked at the flagging crew of the Normandy, then at the ship itself, still smoking from the impact on the base. They were wounded, exhausted, terrified and probably worse...

He shuddered, remembering one of the operations workers dissolve in front of his eyes.

… but they were still going. The Illusive Man had picked only the best to man the ship: not just those technically proficient, but also those who would stand strong in the face of adversity. Most were ex-Alliance, just like himself, and he knew how to get soldiers moving.

'Listen up people!' His voice rang out like a whipcrack, and he was pleased when he saw most of them straighten automatically. 'Anybody too weak to work, go with the doctor. Anybody with the balls to keep going; the Normandy's in bad shape and we need all hands! Report to Specialist Zorah for your assignments, now _move!'_

He was pleased when nobody followed Chakwas, who hurried to tend to Joker, who was hopefully still strapped up in the med bay.

'That's what I like to see!'

Tali appeared from on top of one of the Normandy's engines, and began shouting down orders to the crew, who immediately began limping around the ship, picking up tools, welding, hammering, or, in his case, simply carrying and lifting. He, and many of the crew, knew next to nothing about ship mechanics but Tali was a smart girl, and knew how to use resources at her disposal, even if it was just muscle mass.

They would have the ship ready in no time.

_Operative Taylor, I have picked up incoming Collector signals. Platoon strength, eta five minutes. Heavy support detected, Classification: Praetorian._

He groaned at EDI's words.

_Was going too well..._

He looked towards Tali. 'We need as many people as possible with guns in hand... what do you need to finish fixing the ship?'

The quarian pulled up her omni tool and considered it for a brief moment. 'If I leave Donnelley and Daniels in charge of repairs with two people who know something about ships, less than an hour.'

'And you?'

'I'm more useful with a gun right now and you know it. You're the soldier here... we'll need you to lead the defence.'

_Damn... she's right..._

Jacob was confident in his abilities... but he was no leader.

Shepard was the leader on the ship, and he was _happy _with that. She had been through one of the most intense special forces training programs in the galaxy, coming top of every class. Leadership. Tactics. Ship warfare. She knew it all...

And he was just a soldier.

A good one, but still just a soldier. He preferred to follow rather than lead...

But above all of that, came _duty. _

'EDI, patch me into shipwide comms.'

_Speak when ready._

_Time to step up..._

'Crew, we have incoming Collector forces. I want everybody other than the names Tali sends out armed and ready in two minutes, now move!'

x-x

The Collectors arrived all too quickly. It had been all he could do to get the crew, already tired and weak, to haul some of the crates from the cargo bay to form some basic cover, before they were _there._

'Open fire!' His voice rang across the dozen or so ragged crew, armed with simple but effective Avenger assault rifles, and then the air was thick with gunfire. Some of the Collectors fell...

_Not enough!_

There were just too many, running towards them in a loose formation, returning fire.

One of the Normandy crew instantly called out in pain, and Jacob winced as he saw the gaping wound in her chest.

_Fatal, nothing to do!_

'Keep shooting!' If their line broke the Collectors would overrun the Normandy... he would _not _let that happen. More fell, and he began to hope...

_Oh crap..._

An enormous form, glowing with unnatural biotic power, floated into sight. He saw the Normandy crew begin to shift, to aim their weapons...

'Keep on the bugs! We'll get the big one!'

He raised a fist, tapping into his rapidly exhausting biotic power, and the air around the thing shimmered as he tried to warp its barriers away...

But still it came. It flew closer, and he recognised the glow forming at its eyes.

'Down!'

The beam swept over the crew's fortifications, most ducking out of the way... but not all. Not fast enough. He winced as he saw out of the periphery of his vision a pair of the crew members literally cut in half, screaming for several seconds before their brain recognised that the bodies were dead.

_Dammit... But I can't let that thing win, not now!_

'Eyes front people, keep shooting!' He poured every ounce of power he had into his words, knowing just how important it was to lead from the front, and stood himself, opening fire with the heavy rifle, nailing the Collectors closest...

_Need to kill that Praetorian!_

Suddenly an enormous crack sounded, and the bestial machine fell to the floor.

_I have temporarily disabled its systems, I recommend an offensive._

EDI's voice boomed from the Normandy's external speakers, and he wasted no time.

'Tali, Legion, with me! Everyone else, keep shooting!'

He charged towards the Praetorian, shooting as he ran, grateful as the bullets tore into its harsh metal exterior rather than flash against a barrier, but it was already struggling to right itself, razor sharp legs digging into the stone and metal construct beneath it.

The battle raged on around them, but he only saw the Praetorian. He saw Shepard, somehow leaping onto the back of the one on Horizon, tearing something from the top of it and unloading her gun into its innards.

_I'm not her... _

He gritted his teeth, white flashing against dark skin and darker atmosphere.

He was there, the thing still struggling to its "feet".

'Tali, Legion, keep it off the Normandy!'

The pair ran to the side, still shooting, so its return firepower would not hit the Normandy if it missed them, and with a savage grin he leapt straight towards it, grabbing onto the sharp metal lip above its "eyes", and hauling himself up.

_Now... what did she..._

He saw it, a small panel, but suddenly had to flatten himself out as it lurched into the air.

_Hell no!_

Forcing himself not to panic, he reached over and began to tug at the panel.

The Praetorian beneath him was flailing, sharp limbs trying to impossibly bend to dislodge him, while shots tore into the sick collection of skulls just beneath its "head".

_Come on you son of a-_

_Yes! _

He pried the panel away finally, the sudden shift in pressure almost sending him sprawling from the abomination's back.

_Now... _He pulled out his pistol, when time suddenly stopped.

He glanced up, and saw both Tali and Legion ahead of him.

The Praetorian's eyes beneath him were glowing.

_No no no!_

He planted his pistol into the hole and began to unload... too late.

The beam shot out, right towards Tali.

_No!_

The beam cut out almost as soon as it fired, as the Praetorian screeched and bucked into the air, sending Jacob sprawling to the floor.

_No, Tali, need to..._

He pushed himself to his knees, and looked up.

_Oh, shit._

* * *

I wake with a start, pulling my head from the cold desk.

It is _so _cold in here... so _dark._

I look at the time readout. I only slept for a few minutes, but... _Goddess..._

_So _cold! So _empty_!

This ship... I cannot stay here.

I cannot sit here, safe, helpless, _alone,_ while others fight the battles that decide the fate of the galaxy.

Taking a deep breath to calm my pounding heart, an idea forms in my mind... a realisation of the thoughts and wishes I have been having for some time now.

'Info drone... bring up a requisition order. Specification: top grade hardware for mobile platform information processing.'


	8. Chapter 8

_Life._

Lying on a cold, hard, stone and metal construct.

A scrolling feed of numbers and readings around the edges of vision.

A HUD.

'C-c-c-c-creat-t-t-t-or Zor-r-r-rah?'

Tali's senses hit her with an almost physical force.

_I'm alive?_

She had seen the beam coming towards her... and truly thought it was over. There had been, for the briefest period, a moment of peace. Acceptance, of her new home, of the hand fate had dealt her.

She was dying in defence of her ship, her crew, her name.

As far as deaths went, it was a good one.

But death, it seemed, had other plans.

She pushed herself up to her knees, and looked around.

She was the only living being she could see.

The Normandy's crew were dead, she realised with a falling sensation. Human bodies, torn apart by vicious weapons fire, lay interspaced with the corpses of a far greater number of Collectors.

_Did they kill them all...?_

There were no more of the bugs near, and the Normandy itself was still sealed.

She stood, shakily.

The Praetorian which was to be the agent of her death was crashed into the ground, and with a wince she noticed the red smear underneath it, and the smallest hint of black armour.

_Jacob..._

A Cerberus bosh'tet, to be sure, but he was always polite, and respectful... he did nothing to deserve her ire. His crazy move, jumping onto that Praetorian, was like something Shepard would have done.

But she would have walked from the wreckage, ratcheting her shotgun, acting like the action was no more trouble than fastening on a helmet.

Jacob was not so lucky.

_But... how am I..._

She looked to the ground by her side.

'Oh... Keelah... Legion!'

The geth was shorn in two, legs and most of its... _his... can I give him that dignity now? …_ torso twitching in a pile of the viscous goop that pumped through their body, while his head, shoulders and arms, and not much else, lay just apart.

He had managed to prop himself up, but Tali knew there was no saving the machine. The main power generators had been ruptured... it was a small miracle Legion had not actually detonated.

It was just a matter of time.

'Aud-d-dio-o-o proc-c-cesssssoeeerrrs dammmaged-d-d-d... r-r-r-repairr-r-ring with baaaeeeeccckkkup power-r-r.'

'No, save your-'

'Creator Zorah, audio processors have been diagnosed and repaired.'

_Why... why would you do such a stupid thing?_

'Oh Legion... why?'

'Please specify.' its... _his!... _voice had that same odd inflection to it. Previously it had just enraged her, an artificial imitation of emotion, but now...

_What am I doing?_

'Why did you save me?'

'We judged your value to Normandy collective greater than our own.'

'Th... that's it?'

'Yes. Despite our peaceful intentions and open interactions, crew members showed greater preference in talking to and trusting you. We deemed your survival important enough to sacrifice our functionality.'

_Don't do this, don't make this harder! _

'B... but what about the geth?'

'Our mission was to integrate into and improve the Normandy's collective.'

'Did you not plan on returning... to the rest of your... _people_?' The final word had to be almost forced out, breaking the habits and mindsets that took a lifetime to build.

'A favourable outcome, but a secondary objective.'

_Just... just like most of us... help Shepard first, our own lives second..._

'Why did you repair your speakers? You can't have much power left, we could find a data drive for you, or...'

'We have... a suggested... course of action which needs clarity of communication.' Uncertainty. Such an... organic... concept, coming from this... _machine_.

_No, this __**person**__, who just sacrificed himself... for __**me**__._

'W...what is it, Legion? What's your idea?'

'There may be a way for us to sustain processes outside of this platform.'

'Of course! I'll go and get a drive, or...' She started towards the Normandy, when the distinctive synthetic voice called to her.

'Creator Zorah, we wish integration with _you._'

'W... _what!?_' She did not turn back, but froze, mid-step.

_No, surely he can't mean..._

'If you integrate some of the technology present within this damaged platform, your suit will have sufficient processing power to host our programs when the operation of a mobile platform is not required.'

_This must be a joke..._

'Legion, I'm sure I can put together-' She started back.

_This can't be happening!_

'We do not wish life without organic interaction. If you do not desire to accept our offer, we will await expiration.'

'I-' scenarios ran through her mind... they _could _store Legion in a drive temporarily... but the possibility of finding a platform remotely capable of running him - he was uniquely powerful, hardware-wise amongst the geth - was next to impossible... unless they returned him to the geth themselves, where he would be absorbed into their collective...

But... the mere thought of allowing the geth to live _inside _her suit was almost vomit inducing. At any second, Legion could suffocate her, could override any of her systems, could infiltrate her omni-tool and upload onto whatever other terminals were nearby...

_Keelah... but he saved me..._

'I...'

_AIs __**can't **__be trusted! They'll turn on us at any chance they get..._

Her thoughts span out of control.

_Legion _had never done anything to her.

In reality, most of the geth, she was coming to realise, had done nothing to her. The heretics were the ones she had fought with Shepard; geth allied with the Reapers: practically indoctrinated.

Her _own _people, on the other hand...

Cast out. Exiled. _Humiliated._

Declared a traitor, for a crime she did not commit, because her "leaders" were too busy arguing amongst themselves to notice their squabbles had lost them their one _truly _respected voice amongst the galactic community.

She shook her head and turned back, approaching the ruined machine. She would _not _let Legion's sacrifice go unnoticed. If nobody else was willing to take the first step... she would. 'Do it.'

Her omni-tool instantly lit up, with a request for access. Taking a deep breath, she allowed it.

Her HUD briefly flashed, before returning to normal. Legion's body slumped to the floor.

_What..._

'Erm... Legion?'

Text flashed across her vision.

_Creator Zorah, due to reduced processing power we are currently running at minimal capacity. We disabled destruction and security protocols in our mobile platform before transferring; our primary processor will integrate into your suit with minimal compatibility issues. We will temporarily operate with reduced simultaneous threading. Throttling calculation transactions will reduce power requirements while preserving basic function sufficient for communication._

Still shaking her head, she began to disassemble the now eerily lifeless body, and removed its computer from the upper chest; a smooth, fist sized orb still wireless as when her people designed them so long ago, and dropped it into a protective pocket on her suit. A few seconds of deft hacking had her accessing its immense power, before her HUD flashed again.

[Creator Zorah. We are integrated. Power draw minimised. Warning: draw still exceeds normal suit parameters. Increased power supplies recommended.]

His voice played quietly through her internal speakers, the same distorted voice that came from his now deserted platform. Of all the things she could have thought... one stupid question came to mind.

'Why do you sound the same?'

[We judged you would be more comfortable with this familiar audio profile. if you desire, we can replicate one of millions of recorded voice samples.]

'For example, we could imitate Shepard-Commander.' Shepard's voice suddenly rang through her suit, making her jump.

'Keelah, don't do that... your old voice is fine.'

[Very well.] _Back to normal... this will take some getting used to._

[We also have ideas for further improvements and modulations to your suit, but we believe our primary course of action should be to investigate the status of the Normandy.]

She straightened, slightly ashamed at her distraction from her ship, at the words.

'O... of course.'

Every step towards the Normandy felt strange, as though her suit was somehow _heavier, _an absolutely ridiculous thought, but it did not go away. When she reached the Normandy, she called out. 'EDI, can you let us in?'

_Specialist Zorah, entry to the Normandy is currently impossible. Access will be granted in thirty seconds._

'What do you mean? Why can't I come in?'

_As if one AI messing with me was not enough..._

_I am currently cleansing the ship of Collectors. Please hold._

'C...Collectors?'

[While you were temporarily stunned the Collectors overwhelmed the remaining defenders. They were about to turn on you when EDI's hangar bay opened. Seventeen Collectors boarded the Normandy.]

_Legion is correct,_

Tali realised Legion's voice had been playing through external vox as well as her internal speakers. The AIs, _talking to each other..._

_Keelah, Legion called the Normandy "EDI"... is that how he sees her? _

She shook her head. EDI was still "it". One personification of an AI was enough for today.

_In order to minimise further casualties I initiated a trap. I lured the Collectors on board and destroyed them. The ship is now available for access._

The hangar bay door opened, and Tali gasped as a hiss sounded... air was being sucked _into _the ship.

Inside was a nightmare. The walls and floor were splattered with yellow, viscous fluid, and _chunks _of Collectors, the horrific trail leading all the way to the back of the bay, and she could see the stairs were similarly stained.

_Collectors were inhabiting sixty percent of ship common areas and corridors before I was able to seal the ship and vent atmosphere. Results were... messy._

'Keelah...'

Most of the galaxy, Tali considered, thought the terror of AIs lay in an army of machines.

An understandable attitude, considering the geth.

But _this _was why people should be afraid of them. First Legion, able to kill her at any moment, and now EDI had just killed everything on the ship-

_No!_

'EDI, what about Joker and the rest of the crew?' she began to panic. There had already been so _many _lost here, to be left alone with just these two AIs, when the Collectors could return at any moment was _unbearable._

_Doctor Chakwas, Engineers Daniels and Donnelly, Crewmembers Chambers and Hawthorne, and Jeff were all in sealed rooms. They are safe._

'Oh... thank you, EDI... can I see them?'

_She saved them..._

_**It... **_

_No. __**She.**_

_**She **__saved them._

_Of course. Please proceed to either engineering or the med bay._

'Thank-'

_Warning: the floor may be slippery._

_Gross..._

* * *

_Shepard?_

EDI's voice snapped Faith from her thoughts. She instantly straightened, ashamed that her feelings about having to execute Jack had overtaken her responsibilities to her surviving crew.

'What is it, EDI?'

The rest of the ground team were resting, patching up... avoiding looking at the corpse which had, mercifully, now stopped smoking.

_Reporting: we were attacked. Eighty percent of the crew, most notably Operative Taylor, are deceased. Legion is currently physically incapacitated but... alive. The Normandy is undamaged and will be operational within thirty standard minutes given no further interruption._

'Shit... thanks, EDI.'

_Jacob..._

She thought back to the man... a great soldier just like Ashley...

A little too flirty for her preferences, but good hearted...

_Not now._

Her worries turned to anger.

_Unacceptable._

She had a mission. Mourning the dead, remembering them, could wait.

She was not the Alliance's most feared soldier, humanity's first Spectre, the reason Cerberus spent enough money to float a small planet's economy, because she got _distracted _on a mission.

She looked around at the crew, clearly depressed, demoralised by the news.

Thane, head bowed in prayer, standing a respectful distance from Jack's body.

Samara, still nursing her wounded leg, now sitting with it stretched in front of her. Mordin, slightly charred, but still seemingly chipper, helping with the bandages.

Miranda, hovering near Jack's corpse, as though she could not decide if she wanted to approach or flee it.

Grunt was agitated, bashing his fists together, puncturing the silence with heavy thumps.

Kasumi was openly distressed, head in her hands, squatting on the floor.

Garrus was leaning against a wall, muttering to himself, shaking his head.

_Unacceptable!_

'That's _enough_, on your feet!' she called, voice like a whip.

She was pleased as they instantly snapped to attention, standing up, straightening their backs.

They were still in the game.

'We will _not _let these monsters beat us because they know how to kill our defenceless crew members. We will _not _let these monsters _beat _us because they killed one of our own fighters.'

A loud growling broke through; Grunt, always ready for battle. Thane and Samara seemed as calm as ever, though their eyes were flashing. The others were scowling, ready for action.

'We will not-' She strode over to Jack's body, and gestured at it. 'Let her death be in vain because _we _were too weak to finish this.

'This mission long since ceased being a purely professional one. We're all invested, we've _all_ fought and bled for each other. Now it's time to repay the debt; to Jack, to Jacob, to _everybody _these monsters have snatched from their lives.'

She strode over to the platform that led to whatever was causing the enormous energy signature.

_Need a varied squad for the next..._

'I'm taking Miranda,' _Diverse skill set..._ 'Mordin,' _scientific know-how useful for whatever we find,_ 'and Grunt' _No explanation needed,_ 'with me, to plant enough explosives to blow this place three times over.'

Pre-empting the next question, she continued. 'Everybody else will form a rearguard, under Garrus' command. EDI, as soon as the Normandy's ready to fly, get it closer to our position for an easier extraction, and send us updated maps.'

_Understood._

She walked over to her old friend, the one who had been with her from the start, and touched his elbow softly, speaking quickly and quietly, but not hiding her words from the others. 'Garrus, they're going to break through eventually. I'll keep in touch for as long as possible, and I want us to get out of this _together._ But, I trust you to use your judgement to know when to get your team out of here. Understood?'

The turian caught her gaze, and nodded.

She could see from the corner of her eye that her chosen team members were nodding as well.

The words were unsaid, but understood. Shepard and her team might not make it back.

But she would _not _let that happen.

_I love you, Liara._

She had a promise, made only to herself, but more important than any other she had ever made, to keep.

* * *

It is all ready. The data Faith provided for me was very well structured, allowing me to integrate the relevant pieces into my data packet.

The information on the Reapers; my own, the previous Shadow Broker's, _everything _I could find on the extranet, filtered down to what I believe true and important, and packeted into a program that anybody could easily access, explore, save and replicate.

But I will not yet publish this. I have a list of high profile journalists, scientific bodies, politicians and military leaders ready... and a thoroughly terrifying tool I discovered the Broker... _I... _possess.

A means to send a message to _everybody _in the galaxy.

Every smallest mail account, every instant messaging system, every forum, _everything._

To use it... the mere thought fills me with dread. When I... when _we... _send this out, the blowback will be enormous. Governments will be shaken... and take retaliatory measures against us. The Council will most likely set at least one Spectre, the STG will be tasked with damage reduction, and much, much more.

But it _needs _to be done. This data is something the galaxy needs to see.

I will _not _let my future with Faith be compromised by politicians' failure to act.

A selfish thought, perhaps...

I look towards the small window representing the status of my requisition order, now sitting alongside my Omega agent's live feed, and smile.

… but if we do not fight for what is important to us, then there is nothing to fight for at all.

* * *

_**A/N: **Thanks to Jay8008 for beta reading._


	9. Chapter 9

Faith took a final look back, seeing Garrus hard at work organising the defensive line, before turning to face her small team on their platform, floating serenely towards the central chamber of the base. Grunt, as always, was ready to fight, practically bouncing on the spot, causing the platform to shake slightly, clutching his shotgun so tightly she could hear the groaning of his gauntlets and the harsh metal beneath them. He would stand, though. She still remembered the over-eager child trying to attack her as soon as he awoke... in just a few short months he had matured into a true warrior, and would follow his battlemaster into death.

Mordin, on the other hand, could not keep his eyes in one place. He was glancing between the tubes their platform was following, to the architecture of the base, to the controls of the platform itself, all the while muttering under his breath into his omni-tool, recording his thoughts.

At the sight, Faith instinctively pulled off her helmet, and checked her helmet camera for the fourth time since they had began the assault on the base. They were here not just to stop the Collectors, but also to find information about the Reapers... and she would _not _be denied again. The feed was still being recorded, and the lens was still, despite the scratches, dents and Collector blood covering most of her armour, clean.

_Good._

Not that it would make much difference to the officials. They could find another damned _Reaper _in the chamber ahead and the Council would find a way to wriggle around it.

But it was not for them. It was for Liara's data package... it was for the _people _of the galaxy. Faith knew with the destruction of Sovereign, the debates she started, intentionally or not, had not just gone away - not all the whitewashing in the galaxy could stop experts, scientists, engineers and more from getting their hands on pieces of the Reaper, and drawing the correct conclusion that it was _not _a geth ship. Too many millions of people saw the terror Sovereign caused... and believed her over the Council, especially amongst the humans who saw her as a hero.

Shepard knew that many still believed her... and this would, hopefully, serve to increase the pressure on governments to begin preparing for the Reapers' arrival.

She shook her head slightly, and replaced her helmet. That was all in the future... for now, they had to stop the Collectors.

The final member of her team, Miranda, was standing, arms crossed, leaning back slightly onto one foot. Her face was unreadable, but her absolute stillness told Faith that the woman was forcing herself to appear calm, hiding an anxiety they were all feeling.

Miranda had come a long way from the ice cold woman who woke her up on the Lazarus station. Faith had first seen the shell crack when Miranda had, almost timidly, asked for help saving her sister... and from then, the woman had warmed slightly, been seen in more casual conversations, willing to share a little more about herself, her beliefs. It was in her nature to be _efficient, _but she did not hide behind it any more.

Faith gave the woman a small nod as Miranda, as if sensing the soldier's gaze, turned and looked, piercing blue eyes catching her own deep brown. The operative straightened, and nodded back with a small smile.

_Good._

They were ready, for whatever was ahead.

* * *

'Ok EDI, try now.'

Tali pulled herself away from the engine, and took place alongside the remaining Cerberus crew who had been helping her with the repairs.

A second passed... then another... and she began to feel despair worm into her.

She had _one _task: to get the ship working, and instead most of the crew were dead, she had a _geth _living in her suit, and-

Without warning, the engine roared to life, lighting up the room, and nearly deafening all standing nearby... who were too busy jumping with glee at their success, hugging one another, and shouting loud congratulations. Tali was in no way ashamed that she was amongst them, giving Ken what he called a "high five", and receiving a hug from Kelly, who had tears running down her face, smearing the grime, oil, and blood that had been a permanent feature on all of the humans since they arrived back with Jacob, as well as the dark paint she wore around her eyes.

_I am able to fly the ship to a more suitable extraction point for Shepard and her team. Warning: speed and mobility will be drastically reduced until more thorough repairs are complete. Shields are still down. Any engagement will likely lead to our destruction._

'EDI?' Ken's voice called out.

_Yes, engineer Donnelley? _

'Shut up will ye, an' get us outta here? We dinnah care if we canneh fight, we jus' wanna get the hell outta here!'

_Very well. I will take up a roving position that reduces risk of engagement: without shields, even small arms fire might damage our systems. You may wish to arm yourselves and be ready to provide fire support as the ground teams are extracted._

Tali looked at the small group of humans. They were all clearly exhausted... but not yet beaten. Whatever else Cerberus might be... they chose their people well. They would fight.

'We know, EDI. Give us the warning when we get there.' Kelly spoke quietly, hands trembling a bit, but she still had steel in her eyes.

_Current mission status: Shepard is approaching the central chamber. If you wish to see her helmet cam feed, please proceed to the communications room._

'Ahm not sure I wanna see...' came a mutter from Ken, followed by a gentle "oomph" as Gabby elbowed him in the gut.

'Of course you do! Come on, we can go watch.'

The humans filed away, but Tali stayed.

[Creator Zorah, do you not wish to monitor the progress of Shepard-Commander?]

She shook her head, unable to break certain habits of body language when she knew Legion was not organic... or able to see her. 'Not now, Legion, I just... I don't know.'

[We detect your heart rate is elevated above normal exertion levels, but find no evidence of sickness. Are you well?]

_Am I well... I just... this is all too much!_

'I don't know... I've got a _geth _living in my suit! What is wrong with me?!'

[Do you wish us to leave?]

'No!' _Do I?... _'Yes...' she shook her head again. 'I don't know, Legion. I'm... glad you're, erm, alive, but I'd rather there was a different way to do this.'

[We have already relayed our belief that life without organic interaction is an outcome worse than deactivation.]

'I know, and I don't want you to... kill... yourself, but I just... need to get used to this, until we can find you a new body, do you understand?'

[We do, Creator Zorah.]

'And Keelah... if we're going to be like this for a while, just call me Tali.'

[Very well, Tali.] She shuddered at the word, instantly regretting the decision. This... thing... should not be on first name terms with her... [We believe we can make ourselves of greater use to you by integrating into your combat systems. We have prepared schematics for alterations to your suit to allow for our increased power draw, and with more powerful scanners can provide greater tactical information on your HUD. We believe our partnership can be... mutually beneficial.]

_Partnership... this was _such _a bad idea... as if I needed anything _else _to show everybody just how un-quarian I've become..._

[We also believe we can stimulate your immune system with mimicked virus attacks. In several months, this may allow for you to remove your visor for short periods of time, in carefully controlled environments. In several years, you may be able to live in semi-sterile environments such as the Normandy without it. Further data is hypothesis, but we believe we can stimulate your system enough to allow you a comfortable life, outside of your suit, in certain environmental conditions.]

'W...what? What are you talking about Legion?'

[We wish to improve your life, Tali. By allowing us into your suit we are able to increase your efficiency, and grant you a more comfortable existence than other Creators are afforded. It is our way of... thanking you.]

'I didn't ask for any of that...' she felt like she was in a daze... and actually forced herself to sit down, legs hanging over the railings to the vast open space housing the drive core.

To invite such an _enormous _change into her life... what was she thinking?

And now Legion, rather than killing her, or inflicting any of the other horrors her people warned her of... was _helping _her.

_Keelah..._

_We are in position at the extraction area. Now, we must wait for Shepard to complete her mission._

* * *

_Abomination._

That was the only word Faith could think of to describe the horrific visage in front of her.

_Unnatural._

_Monstrosity._

_Abomination._

The... _thing_... was hanging in a sick perversion of the crucifiction of the Christian faith: the sacrifice Faith's mother had told her of as a child. The group had been just _staring _at it for nearly a minute, even Mordin shocked to silence.

_Shepard..._even EDI sounded hesitant, _I believe this construct is the embryonic stage of a new Reaper._

'A... Reaper?' Her voice sounded weak to her own ears, but she could not bring herself to force some much needed strength into it. Standing before the thing made her feel... _insignificant._

_Yes. The fusion of organic and synthetic parts matches Sovereign's remains. The use of human genetic material suggests each Reaper is a construct made of a race from previous cycles._

_Abomination._

_Anathema._

_**Wrong.**_

'Why... does it look like that?' she asked, mainly to herself.

_We only know what one Reaper looks like: Sovereign. If each is unique, their appearances may differ greatly. And as I said, this is still in its earliest stages of construct. It is likely a shell would be built around it to give it a shape suitable for space flight._

_**Abomination!**_

She straightened, and turned from the terror.

'We need to blow this thing to hell. Miranda?' She forced a strength, a confidence, that she did not feel into her voice, and the raven haired beauty turned to her, looking almost relieved to be facing away from the obscene skeleton. Shepard nodded her head to the heavy pillar of computers that led directly into the ground beneath them. 'Get EDI access to that, and it can overload the drive core.'

Shepard was turning back to stare at the horror above them when a loud beep distracted her, and Miranda spoke clearly, looking at her omni-tool. 'Shepard... it's the Illusive Man.'

She scowled. The man was probably watching the feed from her helmet cam. 'Patch him through.'

Miranda nodded, and tapped a few keys, before the man's now familiar image appeared above her wrist. Shepard noted that, for the first time, he was not clutching his staple whiskey and cigarette, and was instead leaning forward slightly, hands clasped onto the sides of his chair, a _hungry _look in his glittering, artificial eyes.

'Shepard, you've done it. I knew I brought you back for a reason.'

She did not like the eagerness in his tone, the timing of his call.

_What does he want?_

'I'm not done yet. We'll set this place to blow and then we can celebrate.' She pushed past Miranda and opened up the interface on one of the computers herself.

'Don't be hasty, Shepard.'

She paused her hacking procedure, and turned around.

'_Hasty?_ You can see what I'm seeing, right? This thing is...' she shook her head. 'This thing is _disgusting. _An _abomination._'

'It is also exactly what we _need _to win the war, Shepard. We still know so little about the Reapers... imagine what it could teach us! A timed radiation pulse would eliminate all of the lifeforms aboard the Base, and leave the technology intact: EDI could set it up easily.'

_I bet he's already tried ordering EDI to do that... and EDI didn't obey._

She bared her teeth, looking again at the nightmare.

'By "teach us" you mean "benefit Cerberus", am I right?'

'You've thrown in your lot with us, Shepard. You might not like how we do certain things... but you've stayed, because you know that _we _have the will to do what is necessary. You _know _that destroying this base is destroying a valuable resource.'

She felt it: that niggling knowledge that though destroying the base would be the _right _thing to do... what would it gain them? A halt to the Collector attacks: a few hundred thousand colonists saved?

When the Reapers came... there would be that many people dying by the _minute. _If there was even the smallest chance they could learn something here...

'Potential usefulness of base great but risks...' Mordin drew in a deep breath. 'Problematic. Indoctrination most worrying factor, closely followed by distrust of Cerberus. Outside of purely scientific viewpoint: morally... _questionable' _she heard the pause in the salarian's words, clearly weighing the benefits against the cost - as he always did. _'_to save.'

'But...' The Illusive Man turned to Mordin. 'You think we should keep it anyway, am I right? You worked on the genophage: work many would call absolutely unacceptable, disgusting. But it was for galactic peace; it allowed people to have the luxury of lives with which to judge you. You _know _what sacrifices must be made. You _know _morality seems black and white to the outsider, when all they have to do is point fingers, call you evil, when they _never _have to make the difficult choices.'

'...Correct.' With a sad sigh he turned to Shepard, and she could see the conflict within him. 'Have said my piece, Shepard. Your choice.'

_As always... _

'This is **wrong**.'Grunt's heavy voice rang throughout. 'If the coward wants this base, he should have taken it himself. But I'll follow you, battlemaster.'

_He will... they all will..._

She turned to look at Miranda, who had been quiet throughout the exchange, shooting her a silent question.

'Shepard... I don't know about this.' Miranda spoke gently, still glancing fearfully at the Reaper. 'There's... so much that could go wrong.'

'I'm surprised at you, Miranda. I expected you of all people to know that tough choices, that _sacrifices, _are necessary. We're at war, or soon will be. You know we need every edge we can get.' The Illusive Man's voice was far too smooth for her liking, but-

_He's correct... he's always __**correct... **__but is he __**right?**_

She forced herself, again, to look at the monstrosity. Hundreds of thousands of lives, of _deaths,_ went into this... the shockwaves rippling out, affecting _millions _of people.

Was destroying it avenging their deaths... or rendering them in vain?

Why was she the one to choose?

She thought of Liara, watching her... what would she say? She would no doubt have some intelligent-

Realisation hit her with an almost physical force, and she had to stop herself from smirking.

This might not be _right..._ but it was sure as hell better than what the Illusive Man was suggesting.

'We're saving the base.' She spoke with conviction, then looked to the Illusive Man, jabbing a finger in his direction. 'But not for you. There is _proof _here, of the Reapers, of everything we've been warning the Council, the Alliance, about. I'll give them the IFF and they can see it for themselves.'

'Shepard, you can't-' The Illusive Man began, his hologram standing up and shrinking to fit in the projected screen.

'You can't stop me. I won't let the people who died here have done so for nothing, but I'm not letting your ambitions get in the way of the war effort. You know fighting amongst ourselves now is damned stupid, so now you've got a choice. Fall in line, or get out of my way.'

He stopped for a moment, clearly calculating. He no doubt already knew EDI would follow Shepard's orders over his own... and Miranda's words earlier had cast doubt on her conviction to his will. Mordin and Grunt were Shepard's crew to the end.

He shook his head. 'You're making a big mistake, Shepard. The Alliance is staffed by fools and the Council isn't to be trusted.'

'And you are? I don't have time to argue. I've got my mission, and you'll either follow or be left alone. You already know you can't stop me, and I'm telling you now if you try to get in my way I'll burn Cerberus to the _ground_.' She felt her fists clench and forced herself to relax.

'So that's how it'll be... very well Shepard. I hope you don't come to regret this. I'll be in touch.'

At that the feed cut.

Shepard instantly got back to work, and was into the Collectors' systems within seconds, and opened it up to external access. 'EDI, use the drive core to send out a radiation pulse powerful enough to kill every Collector on here, in ten minutes.'

_Very well Shepard... Done. I recommend immediate evacuation. I have moved to a more convenient extraction zone, please see updated schematics on your omni-tool._

'Ok, we'll-'

An inhuman, obscenely loud bellow sounded throughout the cavern, forcing Shepard to her knees as her helmet technology struggled, and failed, to dampen the sound. She looked up, and froze.

The Reaper was alive.

* * *

'Shepard!' Miranda's call snapped her from her daze, breaking the paralysis that froze her to the spot.

_What the hell is wrong with me?_

She saw the thing struggling against the tubes holding it up, before another ear-splitting roar echoed throughout the room, and with a mighty wrench its bonds broke, pumping the goop that was once people into the deep chasm beneath them, and it fell, catching itself on the platforms they were currently standing on.

'The eyes! Aim for its eyes!' Shepard hauled out her rifle, as the others did the same, and the four were suddenly pouring disciplined fire into the thing's glowing red eyes, but it did not slow its advance. The spike that was the end of its spine swung up, and pierced straight through one of the platforms. Faith saw instantly what it was about to do, as it used its new leverage to raise an obscene, skeletal hand.

'Move!'

The group broke, and began to flee to the furthest point.

Not fast enough. With astonishing speed, the hand crashed down - Miranda dove to the side with nearly super-human quickness, but only managed to avoid an instant death. Her scream rang out, a terrifying noise that chilled Shepard to the spine.

'Miranda!' Shepard spun towards the sound... and gasped in horror. Miranda's legs had been crushed to a bloody pulp, pinned beneath the enormous claw of the monster.

With a shout of denial, she started to move to her.

'No Shepard!' Miranda suddenly called out, voice _so _clear... despite the pain she had to be in. Shepard was about to ignore the order, when she saw that the woman had pulled out a couple of grenades.

_The mission comes first, to the very end. You won't be forgotten._

With a sad nod, keeping the woman's brilliant blue eyes as long as she could, Shepard turned back as the creature hauled itself further up the platform behind them... until a pair of heavy thuds sounded.

Daring a glance over her shoulder, she saw the thing had reared up, the red light in the centre of its chest cracked and leaking what looked like red hot, liquid metal. The noise it was making was horrific_, _screams of pain that rung with the same pure _malice _as the voice of Harbinger as she killed the Collectors it was posessing, the enormous formless noise that Sovereign made as the Alliance Fifth and Citadel fleets tore it apart.

_Thank you Miranda._

'Grunt, the Cain, now!'

With a low chuckle, the krogan unshipped the weapon from his back, looking huge even in his enormous hands, and began to charge it up.

As the weapon started to whine, she grabbed the salarian's shoulder 'Mordin, get out of here!' He instantly obeyed, and she turned back, pulling out the M-100 Grenade Launcher she had taken from the Lazarus base so long ago. Grunt's weapon continued to whirr, the noise constantly higher and louder, as she pumped heavy shots towards the Reaper's head, keeping it from recovering its balance.

The Cain's noise suddenly stopped with an unusually quiet _thunk._

'Away!' Grunt shouted, throwing the single-use weapon to the side.

'Run!' She yelled towards the krogan, firing one last grenade at the Reaper's head even as she saw the bright yellow shell of the Cain soar past. She finally turned to run herself, and Faith felt her body flush with the familiar power of Cerberus' nanites responding to some internal command, swiftly closing in on the two figures ahead of her.

_Can't have long..._

'Down!'

Grunt could survive just about anything, but Mordin... she quickly caught up to him, tackled him to the floor, and covered him with her own body.

Just in time. Even through her clenched eyes the world became immeasurably bright, burning her eyes through shut eyelids and heat seared across her back from the immense power of the Cain's shot just before a huge wave of pressure hit her with enough force to push both her and Mordin, still beneath her, several feet away from the blast.

She clenched her teeth, knowing her armour was melting away, knowing she could only survive a few seconds like this-

The heat ended with a suddenness that seemed unnatural. Her enhanced eyes quickly cleared from the blinding light, and she looked over her shoulder, rolling off Mordin into a cloud of foul smelling smoke from her own burning armour.

Grunt's shot had impacted the thing directly in the wound Miranda had caused, tearing the creature apart as an explosive round would do to a real person. It was not crying out any more... and she felt the air around her cool.

_A dead god..._

Arms splayed, it fell backwards with an agonising slowness, toppling from their platforms with an enormous crash, leaving just a gruesome smear of flesh that used to be Miranda.

_Shepard, the station will become uninhabitable within five minutes, immediate evacuation is required!_

'Move!'

_Come on Shepard!_

Garrus had pulled his squad, still miraculously all alive, if not unharmed, to the extraction zone, and they had set up a killing ground in front of the Normandy, the Collectors falling before their entrenched position like bottles at a shooting range.

_She __**will **__make it!_

He nailed a Collector just beginning to show the telltale glow with a shot between the eyes, its head exploding like fruit, and the voice rang out, as it _always _did. The pain made him flare his mandibles, and dig his fangs into the flesh of his mouth.

**KILL ONE AND ONE HUNDRED WILL REPLACE IT**

_Then I'll kill one hundred of you bosh'tets_

He smirked a bit at the thought... he had been spending too much time with Tali.

_Or not enough..._

Another dropped as his scope found them. He did not even need to give orders any more. The team knew what they were doing... what they had to do. The bodies were a literal carpet in the hall before them, the Normandy their serenely hovering beacon of safety behind them, human crew and Tali firing from the opened port airlock, ready to accept their retreat when it came, Kelly and Ken simply running between the armoury and airlock, carrying as many thermal clips as they could and tossing them to the ground behind the firing position.

_Advance notice: Shepard is approaching._

'Ok people, no shooting her after we got this far!' He shouted out, somewhat unnecessarily, but unable to keep the joy from his voice.

They were so _close, _to doing what everybody thought was impossible!

And they were there, the wall literally exploding from one of the sides of the killing ground, Grunt entering shoulder and shotgun first, followed by Shepard and Mordin.

_No Miranda... damn..._

The small team looked around briefly, before turning to run full pelt towards Garrus' position.

'Go!' Shepard called out, and the team began to fall back as Garrus had already instructed them to: Kasumi and Thane first as the team in the airlock fell back, leaving just him and Samara, who was _still _somehow ravaging the enemies with powerful biotics, despite the fight having been going on for _hours._

A few more seconds, Shepard and her squad getting ever closer, then -

'Now!' Trusting his team to know what they were doing, he simply turned and leapt across the chasm, caught by an exhausted looking Thane, Samara the same by Kasumi. The first group fell back, and Garrus readied his rifle-

To see Shepard was already before the hatch, facing away, pouring gunfire around the other two into the Collectors approaching from behind.

'Dammit Shepard, move!'

She ignored him, each shot from her rifle downing another Collector with a deadly... _scary_... accuracy.

Grunt was first, launching himself across the breach, caught by both him and Samara, and hauled into the bay. He could see the krogan was wounded, and bodily pushed him towards the main deck, where Chakwas was waiting to assess the crew, and give appropriate instructions to those unhurt enough to assist those seriously injured.

He himself had taken at least three bullets... but he did not have time to think about that.

His duty came first.

He had failed his own team on Omega: he would _not _fail Shepard's.

Mordin reached the line, and the human, rather than letting him jump, actually hauled the surprised salarian from his feet and tossed him across the gap, where he too was safely caught.

_Debris warning. Retreating to safer distance._

_Dammit!_

'Move Shepard, now!'

She fired off a single shot, before turning to the Normandy, already floating away from her position as a huge chunk of ship fell from above into the place they had been just seconds before. He raised his rifle and brought down another Collector closing in on her, wincing as he saw a spray of vivid red erupt from her hip.

She bent over temporarily, before the beast that shot her, and several others nearby, were lifted into the air, flailing helplessly while surrounded by a blue glow.

_Now or never Shepard!_

As if reading his thoughts, she took two steps backwards, then ran towards the gap, jumping off with an impressive leap towards them.

Garrus felt as if time was slowing.

She was not going to make it!

The Normandy had floated too far away, and her arc would not allow her-

A blue haze surrounded the human, an uncharacteristically vocal cry coming from Samara next to him indicating her actions, and he almost collapsed in relief as Shepard was pulled towards the Normandy, finally reaching out and grabbing his arm.

'That's everyone, go gogo!' He shouted out almost hysterically.

_Retreating to the return Relay._

The airlock closed, and he slumped against the wall in relief, letting the cheers of the crew wash over him.

They had _done _it.

Galactic heroes.

Saved _so _many people... struck such a blow against the Reapers...

_Justice._

He closed his eyes, feeling some fingers, species unknown, probe his wounds.

If he was badly injured, they would drag him to the med bay, no doubt.

For now...

'I never blamed you. I'm sorry if it ever seemed like I did.'

He opened his eyes at the odd words, and saw Shepard crouching by Samara, who was lying against the wall as he was... but with much less strength in her posture. She had _collapsed _against it, her body screaming exhaustion, from her limp arms to unnaturally folded legs.

Shepard reached out a hand, her gauntlet nearly entirely burned off, and gently caressed the asari's chin. 'Rest in peace, Justicar, your duty is done.'

Samara's eyes looked so... _relieved_... for just the briefest second, before life left them, and she slumped.

He stayed silent, not knowing what to say, mood instantly deflated.

_Not another..._

Shepard's head dropped, before she reached up and pulled off her helmet, tossing it to the side. Her face was a horrific visage of red scars, her skin stained with blood, hair plastered around her cheeks with a mixture of unknown fluids.

She continued to stroke Samara's cheek, almost harshly despite the life being gone from the asari.

'I'm sorry... all of you... I'm so sorry...'

Garrus respectfully looked away for a second, before Shepard slumped back against the hatch and took her head into her hands as silent shudders wracked her body.

* * *

_**A/N: **Thank you Jay8008_


	10. Chapter 10

The medical bay was a hive of activity. Joker was in the corner bed, secured into a full body cast as his bones healed, doped unconscious due to the immense pain caused by the advanced procedures Chakwas used to restore their form.

Most of the ground team had taken at least one bullet, not to mention the assorted fractures, burns, cuts and biotic exhaustion that plagued the others. Thane was in a bad way: his Kepral's syndrome having exacerbated his relatively minor injuries, and it seemed Garrus had taken the brunt of the firepower for his team, and was being treated for several gunshot wounds by the surviving crew, all of whom had at least rudimentary combat first aid knowledge.

Chakwas was more worried about Shepard. Her now cut away armour was completely ruined, and some of it had melted into her skin across one arm, and some of her back; the black compound a horrible contrast to her golden skin. She had been barking orders to EDI even as Chakwas worked, first to connect a call to Liara, then to Councillor Anderson, and now she wanted to get Aria T'Loak of all people on the vid-comm.

'Doc, you need to let me go!' The stubborn soldier struggled against the straps holding her in place as Chakwas worked to carefully remove the remnants of her armour, having already treated the gunshot wounds as best she could given the rushed circumstances.

'If I let you leave now, removing this will be a far less pleasant experience, I assure you.' she admonished. She knew Shepard could break free if she really wanted, and was not stupid enough to completely ignore the Doctor's orders.

'I don't care about the pain, we're sitting ducks in the Omega system and we _need _Aria's help!'

Karin sighed and was purposefully less gentle in pulling the piece of armour from Shepard's flesh than she could have been, and the soldier suddenly tensed, but did not cry out.

'This is a delicate enough procedure as it is, Commander, but it's not the pain I'm worried about: any longer and this will sink into your flesh and I'll not be able to remove it without giving you some _very _nasty scars, not to mention the risk-'

Shepard scoffed. 'Scars don't bother me.'

She sighed. The woman was already criss-crossed with the red lines of the Lazarus project, her mood during battle obviously being anger and sadness at the losses they had suffered. 'Will you just trust me for once? Call her on your omni-tool if you have to.'

Shepard stopped moving, then acquiesced. 'Fine. Set yours up in front of me, mine's damaged. EDI, patch Aria through on Chakwas' tool when she's ready.'

Chakwas set up her tool ahead of Shepard, who was lying on her stomach with a bare torso as the doctor cut out the shreds of armour, hidden from the rest of the medbay by a thin curtain.

After a few more minutes of tense quiet, Shepard occasionally groaning as Chakwas eased the melted black material from her flesh, Chakwas saw her omni-tool flare up. An attractive asari shimmered to life above it, clearly in bed with a white sheet draped around her body.

'Shepard... are you trying to make me jealous? Getting my men to wake me up, then treating me to this wonderful sight? I'm sure one of my girls could give you a much better... massage... than that aging thing.' Her voice sounded like a purring cat: comfortable, but like with all cats, the claws were just beneath the calm, beautiful exterior.

Chakwas scowled a little bit, but did not rise to the insult. This was Shepard's call - she was just the doctor.

'Maybe another time, Aria.' replied Shepard, a hint of humour in her voice. Chakwas suspected it was forced: the soldier would be in great pain from her ministrations, and Shepard was not known to brook insults to her crew, but they both knew they needed Aria's help.

'I'll hold you to that. Sooo...' Her voice drawled out, and the medic saw Aria sit up, the sheet falling from her shoulder in a manner Chakwas was _sure _was deliberate. 'My guy _also _told me a ship just came _back _through the Omega 4 relay, a ship _not _belonging to the Collectors. Am I to assume that's you?'

'Yes. We're seriously damaged and need safe passage, protection, a dry dock for two weeks, your best repair and... nnng... detailing crews and absolute discretion. What's your price?' Shepard reeled off the words with military precision, voice emotionless even as Karin tugged a particularly large piece of armour from her shoulder, wincing slightly as she saw bone beneath the wound. The brief pause was the only clue to the great pain Shepard was in: if sedatives had any noticeable effect, Chakwas would have preferred to do this with the woman at least doped, but Cerberus' upgrades apparently did not distinguish between poison and _useful _chemicals.

Chakwas was slightly surprised the Commander was so openly willing to admit their weakness to Aria... but she had seen the state of the Normandy. A single fighter could probably take them down now, and Shepard had no time for games.

'Right to business? And such a list of demands... this won't come cheap.' Aria purred with a smirk, the sheet slipping lower down her violet body, exposing a generous hint of cleavage.

'I know. Name your price.' Shepard replied tersely.

'Ooo I think somebody's deeespeeeraaate...' she drew out the final word in a sing song tone, before her face hardened. 'A favour. At some point I will call you up and have you do something for me.'

To say Chakwas was surprised would be a massive understatement. She thought Aria would want credits, a _lot _of them. That seemed like a small cost...

'You know there's some things I won't do, and I won't risk my crew.' Shepard sounded like she was _expecting _that answer.

With a small shake of her head, Chakwas got back to work. She was much better with wounds than diplomacy, in particular with criminal overlords.

'I'm not stupid, Shepard. Do we have a deal?'

'Deal. You know where I am, I'll get my ship ready for escort.'

'A pleasure as always. Make sure to stop by sometime... and no need to dress.' Aria flashed a wide grin, dropping her sheet just as the video feed cut.

Karin noticed Shepard's shoulders slump. She continued to speak quietly. 'EDI, prepare us to be escorted by whoever Aria sends for us. Don't let anybody on board until I say so.'

_Very well, Shepard._

'That seemed to go rather well,' the doctor ventured, cutting another piece of black armour from Shepard's flesh, almost relieved to see the woman begin to show the pain she was feeling again, and quickly applied the skin weave and medigel. There would be no scar.

'You think? It's pretty much what... aah... I was expecting... but who knows what somebody like Aria will have me do.'

'You're worried she will have you do something illegal?' The implication of Aria's price began to sink in. Somebody like her had access to vast funds and mercenary groups... what she wanted a deadly commando and famous figure like Shepard for would be a substantial favour indeed.

'No, I _know _it'll be something illegal. I just hope... shit, there's no use worrying about it, it's done.' Most of the coldness had gone from Shepard's voice now, she just sounded... _tired_, and Karin felt a pang of affection for the woman, who sacrificed so much and never asked for anything in return.

'You are a good woman, Shepard. Not many would do such a thing for their crew.'

The woman snorted a bit, but remained quiet as Chakwas continued her work, tensing occasionally at the pain.

She felt like filling the silence with something else: commiserations for the dead, reassurance of the victory, anything, but nothing seemed appropriate.

'Eighteen people died for this victory.' Shepard spoke quietly. 'I know that cost will seem small for this kind of win in the war... but I just keep wondering what I could have done. I should have sent more of the ground crew with Jacob. I should have had Jack rotate her biotics with Miranda. I should have told Samara earlier, so she didn't feel like she had to... dammit!'

Karin saw the woman's body tense up again, and knew this time it was not from the pain. Not the physical kind. She had a feeling Shepard was not talking to _her _though, not really, and decided to let Shepard vent her feelings, at least for now, wishing only that she could offer more.

'We'll... hold some kind of service for the fallen.' Her voice cleared a little bit, again ringing with the purpose of a woman with a plan. 'They're all heroes; gave their lives so people who they've never met are safe from a threat they didn't know existed.' Shepard's head, dark brown hair still matted with blood and gore, shook harshly. 'I know we don't do this for the recognition, but it's so _wrong_... people will still call them terrorists... they don't deserve their sacrifices to be forgotten on some hellish base. We're not Alliance so we can't get them a formal service, but I won't let them go without remembrance.'

Chakwas gave a gentle smile. This, coming from the woman who, according to Kaidan, had ordered young Jenkins' body to be left on Eden Prime... she had changed so much since then.

Shepard relaxed again into the bed. 'Do you know what asari do for their dead?'

'Sorry Commander, I do not.'

'I'll ask Liara, and maybe there's a Justicar temple or something on Thessia where we can send her body.' Shepard sighed again. 'I wish we had more... we had to leave everybody else but Zaeed on that base.' Another shake of her head. 'I'll get coffins for everybody else. We'll do it properly, as soon as everybody's healed up.'

'That sounds like a lovely idea: it should not be more than two days before everybody is on their feet.'

'Good, then we can all have a break while Aria's people fix the ship.'

'A... break?' Chakwas was surprised - they obviously had a lot to do after the mission.

'Yeah, a couple of weeks I'm thinking. Give everyone a break... let them decide what they want to do next.'

Karin realised with a start it was one of the longest periods of leave she had had for years. She had no family to visit, but perhaps she could visit some old friends, or maybe she would be needed with Jeff and could take a short break with him, wherever he wanted to go...

She felt her heart lightening at the thought. After so much time treating the injured, living amongst the same faces in the high-pressure environment of the Normandy, she realised just how much this was needed.

'An excellent idea. If I might ask, what will you do?'

'I've got some things to sort out with Liara, and want to spend a bit of time altering the ship. EDI can run everything now so we don't need as much living space - I'm going to upgrade its... her... hardware so the combat suite isn't compromised by operations and navigational tasks, then fit as much armour and weapons onto the Normandy as I can without making her unwieldy for Joker to fly. EDI's more than proven herself trustworthy and capable, and not having a large crew will give us more capacity for armaments.'

She smiled gently, pulling out the final piece of armour. 'That does not sound like a _break_, Shepard. Don't make me pull rank on you.'

Shepard smiled over her shoulder, amused... they were not an Alliance ship, and Chakwas had no _real _power over Shepard, but the threat was still used often.

'Don't worry doctor, I'm just going to get the ideas on paper for now: that kind of retrofit will take months. Once that's done, I'm going to see if I can convince Liara to come on holiday with me.'

Karin could not help but feel her heart soar at the light in Shepard's eyes as she spoke, and notice the slight fading of her scars. What Liara had done for the Commander was _wonderful._

'That sounds lovely, where will you go?'

'Mindoir. I'm going to take her to Mindoir.'

* * *

'We _need _to organise an expedition!'

Anderson's hologram was gesticulating wildly, and Tevos had to hold in a scowl. Shepard just _had _to make it back... things would be difficult from here, no doubt.

'For what? To see the ruin of _another _species Shepard committed genocide upon?' Sparatus spat angrily.

'Don't speak like I can't hear you, Councillor.' The human was standing, back straight, in a well-fitted uniform free of any insignia, her image projected from her ship which had, by all accounts just returned from the Omega 4 Relay.

She looked remarkably good for somebody who just returned from a suicide mission.

'I judged that the Rachni was too much a risk to let live. I expect that had I let it go you would be telling me _you _committed genocide for a good reason all those years ago, so let's cut the crap, most of my crew are dead or seriously injured and I'm not in the mood.' Despite her words, her voice stayed calm, her posture still.

'How dare-'

'I _dare _because I've just done the impossible and you know it. I've got something important to tell you, so are you going to listen to what I have to say?'

Sparatus looked ready to burst, so Tevos stepped in quickly. 'Perhaps we should hear her out. Shepard, despite recent... _associations_... is still a Spectre, and would not call without reason.'

The human nodded. 'Thank you Councillor. Yes, I wiped out the Collectors. However, as the information I have already sent you shows, they were actually Protheans, genetically modified and filled with so much technology there was nothing left of them but mindless thralls.'

'So you killed not only an entire race, but a race you yourself say was eliminated by your so called _"_Reapers_"_?' Valern spoke that time, voice expressing disbelief, but not the blind scoffing that Sparatus' did.

'I prefer to see it as putting them out of their misery, Councillor. Without their controller, the creatures were nothing but husks. Professor Solus' extensive reports show this, and we have samples we are willing to share with your species' governments.'

'So you say.' replied Valern, but he did not sound so cynical. Tevos knew Mordin Solus was practically a living legend amongst his people.

'Anyway, that is not why I called. I wiped out the Collectors whilst leaving the base intact. The area will be radioactive for some time, but what I found there was worth the risk.'

'Tell them what you found, Shepard.' Anderson sounded eager.

The woman tapped her omni-tool a few times, and Tevos saw a video feed pop up, Shepard's face filling the screen, smeared in blood and looking stressed, a web of glowing scars criss-crossing her skin. The view suddenly spun around before stabilising, the movement signifying a helmet camera, which looked towards a stunningly beautiful human woman, nodding towards her, eliciting a small smile, before panning to the side of a huge cavern.

'The tubes you see are filled with the base genetic material of tens of thousands of humans.'

The video continued, the movement of Shepard's transport strangely smooth.

'They were all leading to a superstructure which my ship's computer identified as a hybrid of organic and artificial parts. The Collectors were using the humans to _build...'_

Shepard paused, clearly for dramatic effect. Tevos was about to chastise the woman for such petty drama when the monstrous visage of a giant skeleton filled the screen, and gasps sounded from Shepard's audio.

'... a _Reaper._'

All four Councillors burst out into conversation at once, expressing a mixture of horror and disbelief, Tevos included. It _couldn't _be... that... _thing... _was not a Reaper. It could not be!

'Shepard, you cannot seriously-'  
'Impossible! Use of organic parts in such a way is-'  
'A fabrication! You humans are desperate-'  
'See! Shepard was right!'

'**Councillors!**' Shepard's voice sounded like a whipcrack, silencing them. Tevos instantly felt ashamed: such crude behaviour was beneath her, insulting to her people. 'Please, the rest of this is important.'

They watched, horror mounting, as Shepard argued with the terrorist known only as the Illusive Man, as she made the decision to save the base for _them_, as she fought the abomination, as it killed the human they had seen smiling just minutes before, as Shepard's krogan finally brought it down. The video shrank, continuing to play through her escape despite the overwhelming opposition, in the bottom corner of Shepard's hologram as the woman once again appeared.

'I show you this, and I saved the base, because I will _not _abide inactivity any longer. On that base lies all the proof you need of the Reapers' existence, data on how they are made and how they operate, and more. I've already sent Councillor Anderson everything I have on the dangers of indoctrination; I don't know if that base is a liability but we can never be too careful-'

'That is assuming we follow your request.' Sparatus' voice cut over Shepard's.

She actually looked confused for a moment, before clearing her face again. 'You've asked me for proof, and I've given it to you on an enormous scale, saving hundreds of thousands of lives in the process. The least you owe me for your doubts is to take a _look_.'

'If the Council does not investigate this, the Alliance will go through the Omega 4 Relay and claim any technology discovered there as its own.' Anderson piped up.

_That _little note inspired her to act, and she could see the same was true of the others. Rumours of ancient death machines could be easily ignored... but allowing the _humans _to keep something so important to themselves... could not be permitted.

She had a duty to her people first, to ensure the asari retained their position as the dominant race in the galaxy. Allowing the humans to take all of such a finding to themselves would threaten that dominance, especially if, as Shepard indicated, the Collectors were actually Protheans.

'I vote to launch an exploratory expedition, to be followed by more substantial investment if initial findings are promising.' she said quickly.

'Agreed.' Valern spoke instantly.

With Anderson's obvious agreement, they did not need Sparatus' vote to go ahead... but his agreement would be useful.

'Very well. We will begin preparations.' She breathed a small sigh of relief: unanimous agreement led to far fewer disagreements in the future. 'Have you considered that the Omega 4 Relay is in Sahrabarik, practically the centre of the Terminus Systems? We will not be able to move there in any considerable force.'

_Good point..._

'It is already taken care of, Councillors. You can jump straight to Sahrabarik from the Citadel relay, am I correct?'

Tevos nodded. Thankfully, the reverse was not true.

'Aria T'Loak agreed to let all of your ships pass without harassment... for a fee. She will become quite rich from this, I imagine, but the benefits will far outweigh petty credits.' Shepard continued.

Tevos shook her head. Venturing into the Terminus, dealing with the shameful example of her people that was Aria... But Shepard and Anderson had them. Shepard wanted them to examine her proof, Anderson had the Alliance ready to take advantage if they did not.

She really had no choice. The only way to allow the asari to benefit would be to prevent the humans from monopolising the find.

'Thank you, Spectre Shepard, for this information. We will begin organising our expeditionary force immediately. Tevos out.'

The communication cut, and Tevos knew she had a few seconds before her duty claimed her again.

Nobody watching, she sighed deeply, and ran her hands across her crest, dipping lower to the sensitive skin below, enjoying the shameful flush accompanying the touch, letting out a quiet groan.

Sometimes, it felt like illicit thrills were the only thing real in the galaxy any more.

Her omni-tool rang suddenly, breaking her spell. She straightened her spine, and accepted the call.

* * *

I struggle, and eventually fail, to keep a small smile from my face as my shuttle soars through the vast blackness of space towards the nearest mass relay.

Leaving my ship unoccupied was a risk, but a small one. Nobody knows its location, and the onboard VI can manage the information networks to an acceptable level of efficiency in my absence.

Faith's call was brief, coming almost as soon as her agent reported the activity at the Relay.

"_I'll be with you soon, Liara."_

I did not tell her that our reunion will be a lot sooner than she imagined. I could see that she was calling from the medbay, head bobbing with the motion of whatever Doctor Chakwas was doing, and there was pain in her words, and an immense tiredness: the same things I heard in her voice when Ashley died on Virmire. More died during her assault, I know, and I will be there for her.

The rest of the journey passes with an agonising slowness: the shuttle is less than ideal for long haul flights but I had no other choice, unless I took a fighter.

But as I make the jump into Omega, I feel a familiar excitement rising as I scan the area for the Normandy's unique signatures. I am not surprised to see it is in one of the dry docks built into the asteroid field around Omega, and immediately plot a course, hailing the ship with a very specific address.

Seconds later the comm hisses to life, a softly glowing blue orb projected where the video feed of the other person would normally be.

_Hello, Doctor T'Soni._

Shepard's AI, EDI, had made something of an impression during my brief time on the Normandy as we hunted the Shadow Broker: it seemed rather... _mischievous. _

'Hello EDI, thank you for taking my call. Have you followed my request not to tell Shepard I am here?'

_Yes, though I am unsure as to your motivations. We suffered heavy casualties and Shepard is unlikely to appreciate romantic games at this time._

'I will not be playing games EDI, I simply believe that if she knew I was coming, she would instinctively put on some pretense for my benefit.'

_I... understand. I will assist you._

'Thank you. I imagine there are people working on the Normandy: what would be the best way for me to board discretely?'

_I will give you directions and distract crew members. What is your destination?_

'Shepard's cabin.'

A silly thing to do perhaps... but I will be there for her tonight, as she grieves.

* * *

_**A/N: **Thank you Jay8008 for beta reading._


	11. Chapter 11

The Normandy is in a terrible state. EDI let me in through the airlock near the bridge, telling me that there were no crew members on the main deck.

She did not mention the mess.

With a grimace I step around a large patch of yellow blood and gore, ensuring my dress does not trail into it.

'What happened here EDI?' I am not sure I want to know, but the situation is so... _unusual..._ I simply cannot resist but to ask.

_Collectors boarded me while Shepard was on the ground. I removed atmosphere to repel the attackers. When exposed to a vacuum, they expired in a rather... dramatic fashion._

_Goddess..._

The elevator opens as I approach, carefully avoiding the horrific stains marring most of the CIC. I do not envy whomever Aria assigns to detail the Normandy... most likely a team of unlucky "indentured servants".

_Shepard is in her cabin. Transporting you now, Doctor T'Soni._

I begin to mentally prepare myself. Faith will be suffering after so many losses... EDI told me the extent of the casualties and gave me a brief on her activities both during and after the mission. She must be exhausted.

The door silently, eerily opens before me. The ship's AI is useful, no doubt, but it still makes me uncomfortable, knowing it is always _there, _pre-empting things that I might have needed to ask a VI for.

I venture inside, thankful that the Collectors did not manage to get up here, reachable only by the elevator as it is. The room is deserted, so I take a couple of steps further inside, noticing a rush of warm air across the back of my neck.

_The bathroom..._

Turning, I see her standing before the mirror in the room, dressed in just a dark tank top and her underwear, both slightly damp. With one hand she is pulling at her hair, gathering it up and tugging it back. I open my mouth to announce myself, when with an unnatural speed her other hand shoots up, clutching a heavy combat knife.

'Goddess, no!'

* * *

Faith looked into the mirror again, running soft fingers over her scars. They weren't as bad as they had been earlier in the day, but still shone in the dim light, and ached uncomfortably.

She had always meant to talk to Samara, to perhaps ask if they could meditate together, to learn how to control her emotions enough to keep them from her face, rather than simply repressing them, showing no outward sign through her behaviour, as she previously had.

_Samara..._

The asari had saved her, exhausting the last of her strength to ensure _she _did not die.

_Dammit..._

So many had died on the mission.

It weighed on her. Every single one. The Cerberus crew, mostly ex-Alliance people who only wanted to continue the fight.

Who left the Alliance because of _her._

And the others... Jacob and Miranda both signed up for this, knowing the consequences, but what right did she have to demand the others _died _for this fight?

When she lost Ashley, the first soldier she had ever properly mourned... it had been _devastating. _After opening herself up, she had felt both the warmth of true friendship, and the pain of the loss.

_With Liara's help._

She gave a sad smile at the memory. She had been ready to retreat back into herself, to become the same cold, empty soldier she had been before. Liara did not let her. The asari picked her up, dusted her off, and showed her that pain and hurt were just as real as love and happiness, and were just as important to life.

And that had been just one soldier. In a situation she knew, deep down, she could not have done anything to change the outcome of.

But the assault on the Collectors had been... a disaster. Leaving the ship unattended got Zaeed killed. Her poor planning, Jack. Her bad tactical decision, Jacob and the Normandy staff.

And _so _many more.

She ducked down to the pile of clothes she had been wearing earlier in the day, and pulled out a heavy duty knife she often kept with her, mainly out of habit rather than frequent use.

She looked again into her reflection, damp hair hanging loose across her shoulders. It was bothering her. The tips dug into her scars, plastered as it was against her face. It had been a long time since she had grown so long, and in a fit of desperation, a futile effort to distract herself, she gathered as much as she could into one hand, pulled it back and brought up her wickedly sharp combat knife, slicing clean through it, cutting it to just a few inches from her skull.

'Goddess, no!' a clear voice called rocked Faith, and she was about to look when a heavy force hit her hand, knocking the knife away and spinning her around.

_Danger!_

With a snarl she ducked low, before the action cleared in her memory, and she saw _Liara_, standing in the doorway, glowing with biotics.

She stood straight, looking incredulously at the sight, almost imagining it an illusion before her brain caught up with her.

'L...Liara? What the...?'

The asari ran up to her as silence descended, slipping one hand around her waist and the other through her hair.

'Goddess Faith, what are you doing? Are you hurt?'

'W... what? What are you talking about? What are you doing here?' she tumbled the words out, still too startled to form a coherent sentences.

'I came to see if you were ok, what did you do that for?' Liara's eyes were wide with concern.

'What are you -' Faith put the pieces together. 'I'm fine Liara, erm, hair isn't sensitive and it grows back...' She frowned a little. Had somebody let her in?

'Oh...' Her eyes widened 'Oh Goddess, I am so dense! I did not mean to attack you like that, I was just worried...'

'That I'd do something _stupid_?' A coldness descended. What was Liara _thinking_ doing that?

'No, I-'

Faith shook her head, trying to clear it, still dazed that Liara was _here, _that the asari had _attacked _her. 'Is that what you think I would do? After...after all we shared?'

A maelstrom of emotions began to tear through her, and desperate for a release from the horrific emptiness_, _she grasped onto them, let them take over, take over the pain, the loss_._

'After all I gave you... after I told you I'd be coming back for _you?_' A horrific blend of grief and upset anger tore her voice, and she just wanted... just wanted...

* * *

'N-no! I know you... I am sorry, I just saw the knife and panicked, I...' This is going so _wrong!_

I wanted to surprise her, to be here, in a loving way... but I can see in her eyes that I did _everything _wrong, attacking her in such a fragile state, questioning her when what she needs is _support_!

_Goddess!_

I barely keep my footing as she presses against me, stumbling over her chair and back to the cool hardness of her desk against the back of my legs, and she is _on _me.

Lips, pressing against mine.

Hands, running down my body.

Such a rude, visceral pleasure... she is usually much more reserved, but this is...

_Mmm... good..._

'F... Faith!' Her name is torn from my lips, worries of her actions forgotten, the moment alight with passion, to forget _everything _for just a minute-

A deft touch across my crests blasts everything away: conscious thought, whatever hesitation I was feeling, replacing it with a heat I know should probably be wrong but... Goddess... so _right!_

A tearing sound. Was that my dress?

No matter.

I reach out, surrendering to the moment, and thread my hand through her still damp hair, now much shorter than I am used to, pulling her head into mine, and-

'Ngggh!' A wordless groan escapes the kiss, source unknown, perhaps both of us, perhaps-

_Cold!_

A touch across my back, rude, but... Goddess... so _good_... the dress will be ruined, but...

_Weightlessness._

The world spins for a second; instinctively I tighten my thighs around her body...

_When did her top come off?_

I gasp in shock as my bare back lands against the cool fishtank, every touch lighting an inferno, her lips still harsh, wonderful, just taking everything other than right _now _away, and I just need -

As if reading my thoughts, she somehow stumbles down the stairs without dropping me, and lays me back onto the bed, her own warm body instantly above me, hands pulling what remains of my dress aside, clumsily leaving rags draped across my chest.

_No time!_

A flash of my biotics, and the rest is gone, shredded and scattered across the bed and room, and her mouth works miracles down my neck, burning fire at every contact, and my hips arc into her willing hand, and the touch... Goddess... _just _right, hitting so many of my pleasure points, and her teeth sink into the soft flesh of my breast just as her fingers probe deeper, and sink deep, a strange sensation I try to nudge away, to regain the passion of the moment, but she pushes harder, and again her name drips through my lips... 'Faith!'

* * *

Liara's voice was heady, husky, her cerulean hands roughly pulling Faith's shortened hair, sending magnificent pulses throughout her body, and the human surrendered herself to the moment, letting it all _go, _as she felt the urge to _give _and _take _and _feel, _when Liara repeated her name... but this time there was discomfort, and she also pushed Faith's hand away, and-

Faith stopped instantly, passion burned out, at the realisation of what she was doing.

Asari, before they colonised the galaxy, had never needed penetrative sex to reproduce and as such never evolved for it to be pleasurable as it was for females of other species. Though thousands of years breeding with other species had led to evolution (and, apparently, rumours of genetic engineering) causing the action to feel... not _pleasant, _but, as Liara described it, _warming_, Liara in general preferred not to feel it at all.

She _knew _that, but just gave into her own selfish desires, just _took _what she wanted without thought or consideration!

_What have I done?_

She jumped from the bed and dashed to the top of the stairs in her cabin, breath short, not daring to look back, feeling a sick bile rise up in her throat, the urge to flee, to be away from where she could cause any _more _harm to those she was supposed to _care_ about.

What was wrong with her? To... _attack _Liara like that?

Cool arms circled around her waist; Liara's naked form pressing into hers, head resting against her shoulder.

_What did I do to deserve her?_

'God... Liara... I'm so sorry, I-' she could not bring herself to turn, to look into those bright blue eyes, knowing she would see only forgiveness, understanding.

She did not _deserve _that!

Liara did not say anything, just held on tighter, breath warm against her neck.

_Is she not going to say anything?_

She drew in a deep, racking, breath, and brushed away the tear forming in her eye.

_Say something!_

She grasped Liara's hands, naturally cooler than her own but warm from the contact with her skin, and drew them tighter around herself, closing her eyes, losing herself in the touch.

'I... I don't...' She did not even know where she was going with the words, just spoke, a desperate attempt to say... _something. _

'Hush,' Liara spoke softly, as if she knew just what Faith was thinking, or not thinking.

She hushed.

Leaning back a bit, into Liara's strong grasp, she felt the turmoil begin to calm. The fire that had suddenly raged through her had cooled, leaving her empty, but clear headed, and simply thankful that Liara was there, was _still _there, despite Faith just doing something _terrible_.

She knew she should feel absurd, standing in just a pair of briefs, brushing back tears as a beautiful, naked, asari clung onto her from behind, pouring an affection she had not known possible through a simple touch, but at that moment she didn't care. She had just...

She clenched her teeth.

_What the hell is **wrong **with me?_

'I'm so sorry, I promise, I won't-' She felt ashamed to say, after what she had done.

'I know, Faith.' Liara cut across, voice full of calm, of love. Without a further word she took one of Faiths hands and drew her around, where they finally locked eyes. Liara's brilliant blue gaze was wide, open, concerned, but most of all accepting, as though Faith near enough _assaulting _her was nothing, was something that could be forgiven.

Liara leant forward, drawing their bare bodies together, and placed a chaste kiss on Faith's lips.

'I am sorry,' Liara spoke gently, again resting her head on the human's shoulder.

_What is __**she **__apologising for?_

'W... what?'

'I apologise Faith, I did not mean to stop you, I just... you startled me, that is all, you did not hurt-'

'No!' She snapped angrily, holding Liara back slightly so she could look her in the eye. 'You _won't _apologise for that.'

Liara frowned a bit, brow wrinkling softly, then her features cleared. 'Very well. But neither will I accept an apology from you.'

Faith was about to argue when she saw the stubborn look in Liara's eye. She recognised the look, the iron strength of a matriarch's daughter, of the woman so many underestimated because of a gentle exterior and polite demeanour. There was no arguing with that look. She shook her head, promising to never, _ever _abuse this chance. 'I don't know what I did to deserve someone like you.'

Liara took her hand and pulled her back towards the bed, which had been disturbed by their earlier efforts, and crawled underneath the sheets. After they had settled, Liara resting her head on the slightly larger human's shoulder, the asari spoke again. 'I wish I knew what to do in this situation, Faith. I am no soldier, or psychologist, so I will just ask. Is there anything I can do? Whatever you need, I am here.'

She pulled the asari in tighter. 'I... I don't know. I just... after everything that's happened over the last few days, first my finally admitting what I should have done on the old Normandy with you, then the assault, and...' She closed her eyes. 'And all we lost... I'm just _tired, _Liara. I want it all to stop, to go away, for just a moment.' _A futile wish... _'How much do you know about what happened there?'

'EDI told me about those who fell... and your decision regarding the base.' Liara's reply was quiet, not judging the decision, just a relay of facts.

'I... I _think _I did the right thing. Destroying that place would save lives, but in the long run gain us nothing. I convinced the Council to send a team out...' She shook her head again. 'That place was horrific, Liara. They were turning the colonists into a _Reaper_, and I just... decided that we could _use _it rather than doing the right thing and destroying it! What the hell is wrong with me?'

She _knew _that place was an abomination, that it only represented pain, that by saving it she had just ensured that it had a chance to continue.

But she had done it anyway.

For the _mission_.

It was an old mantra, from long before she had met Liara, but the one that always kept her going, the final, steel core of herself, that demanded her victory, at any cost.

She had to destroy the Reapers, and that base could help achieve that. Was that reason enough? What had she sacrificed of herself to make that choice?

'You did the right thing. It... it is the proof you needed.'

The words... so simple, but Faith felt her tension unwind at them.

From anybody else: from Garrus, or Tali, from whom she had heard similar things before, they always sounded hollow, platitudes from those who looked up to her.

But Liara... she had seen everything Faith was. Felt it. known it. _Become _it.

And she was stronger for it. Having a partner, somebody she did not have to lie to, to justify herself to, eased the burden that she had carried alone for so long.

'Thank you for being here.'

* * *

'_Thank you for being here.'_

Goddess, I thought I had messed everything up, while she startled me at first, and I do not fully enjoy the same sensations a human female does, it is by no means _unpleasant_, I could see she needed to just be taken from herself for a while...

_No matter..._

I love this sensation. Lying against her, one of her strong arms around me, feeling her naturally warmer human body heat mine, I could stay like this for hours.

Faith's head shifts a bit, and I reach up to brush away the strands of her hair that drift into my face.

'Why did you cut it?'

She shakes her head. 'Don't know. It... ha... seemed like a good idea at the time. I'll see if I can get Kelly to tidy it up at some point.' Her voice is quiet, but ringing with a little humour, and my heart lightens. I know people can do hasty things in grief, and know deep down that Faith would not be one of them: the action was just so startling, and although I _know _her hair has no sensation, seeing somebody _cut_ a piece off of themselves was... disconcerting, doubly so since it was the woman I love.

_Love..._

It is still strange to imagine; it has been just days since we finally admitted our feelings.

That after all we went through, all that we still must face, we can now do it _together._

'Why did you come?' Her chest moves with the words, vibrating pleasantly against my head. 'I'm not complaining, it was just... surprising... to see you there.

'I knew you would need me.' I say simply. There are other reasons, of course, but I will not burden her with any more questions tonight. Although perhaps... 'And I have come to tell you something.'

'Hmm?' I draw in closer, enjoying the warmth across my body.

'I am leaving the Broker's ship to join you, Faith.'

'W... what?' She begins to sit up, and I shift slightly to allow her, trying to keep my eyes from her body. 'I thought we agreed, you would use the Broker's resources to... not that I don't want you, I mean-'

I chuckle slightly at her mixed emotions, the obvious desire to see me more often mixed with the knowledge of where I will be most useful during the fight. 'I have already made provisions to have technology for a frigate-mounted information platform to be delivered. Most of the hard data can be stored off-site, and the real power of the Shadow Broker is his... _my...' _It still baffles me to think of myself like that. 'network of agents and operatives. I can control them from the ship, I will need a room to set up in, and will likely need to speak with Tali and EDI about the power draw, but-'

Oh.

I am rambling, just like when I first met the woman! 'I... sorry, I will tell you the details later.'

She hums quietly, and I close my eyes as I feel her hold tighten again, draw in closer.

* * *

_Liara, on the Normandy!_

The thought was electric.

No more awkward mails or phone calls. No more, the thought that if she wanted to see Liara, she would have to put the mission on hold for a day or more to travel.

Just her. There.

All of the time.

_I can live with that._

She drew Liara in tighter, and began to feel the tug of sleep. She had returned from the relay over 30 hours ago, and had still not slept since the few hours she caught while they were in transit to the Omega 4 relay.

But...

The images began to flash again, as they had last time she laid down. Pulling her weapon and shooting Jack as she writhed on the floor, before coldly looting her body for supplies. Seeing Miranda's legs crushed, knowing she was doomed.

The pit of her stomach dropping as EDI informed her most of the Normandy crew was dead.

She had thought with Liara there things might be better, that she might be able to relax, but _still _she relived it all, seeing them die again and again, and her muscles began to tighten, her teeth clench together.

_No..._

The abomination of a base, _saved, _because she just wanted some damned _proof _for the idiotic leaders who claimed to lead the galaxy.

What had saving that base cost her?

Every one of the colonists sacrificed to the monster they destroyed... what would they think of their fate? Were they even still, somehow, alive, in that creature?

And rather than ending the torture, she had allowed it to go on, for the sake of _proof?_

_No!_

All the voices, the screams, tore at her, keeping her from just... _forgetting_... for just a minute, for just a _second_, when all she wanted was to-

She gasped as the sheer presence of _Liara _pressed against her mind, slowly at first, but she greedily welcomed it and Liara pushed forwards, flowing through her thoughts, drawing the pain away, taking it onto herself, soothing the fears that she had done the wrong thing, that she could have done _better_, and just as it had previously, the panic began to subside with Liara's reassurance, with just her simple presence, knowing that they were _together._

_I love you._

The thought was not coherent, had no source, no exact words, there was just a sense of belonging, of rightness, of _completion_.

_I need you. _

Her rock. Her reason to go on. The one from whom she did not have to hide.

The dark slowly left her, melting away like ice under the sun, and she felt that same flush of _life,_ banishing the emptiness and pain, flooding between both her and Liara through the union. But this time it was _clean, _replacing that bitter emptiness with a simple exhaustion and as Liara's arms slowly enclosed her, Faith dropped her head into the asari's chest, and finally slept.

* * *

_**A/N: **I have made some changes to the original version of this chapter - I was too harsh in writing what I wanted to portray, and apologise._

_Thank you again to everybody who has read, favourited, followed and reviewed this piece, the feedback has been nothing short of amazing and really drives me to go on._


	12. Chapter 12

'_Sweet thing...'_

_A husky voice, dripping sensuality, _

_A pale blue expanse of flesh, pushing her to the bed, forcing her down._

_She knew it was wrong, but she __**loved **__it, wanted more, and when the touch came she arced back, just as Liara did under her, wanting more, until it began to hurt, until -_

'_**Morinth!'**_

Faith awoke with a start, scrambling up the bed, soaked in a cold sweat that had the thin white sheet stuck to her body.

Liara was there instantly, with a gentle caress across her cheek.

'Calm, Faith,' her dark eyes blinked, clearing the haze of sleep, and saw Liara looking at her, concern filling her gaze. She took a deep breath, willing her heart to cease pounding into her ribs as the asari crawled up to sit alongside her, leaning against the pillows across the headboard.

'W... were you already awake?' she mumbled, before reaching for the flask of water she kept by the bed to clear her mouth and throat.

'You were thrashing in your sleep, but I could not wake you.' Liara looked down as Faith took a sip. 'I am sorry, it seemed -'

'Don't.' she cut off Liara's words, before handing her the flask. She was alert now, and saw on the chrono by her bed that they had only been asleep for a couple of hours. Her body was relaxed now, but her mind still felt exhausted. 'Please Liara... don't apologise.'

'What do you mean?' Liara asked, trailing one hand through Faith's rather ragged hair as the other took the water.

_She is too good..._

Faith tilted her head slightly, away from Liara's touch, a touch she felt unworthy of. 'Do you want to know what woke me up?'

Liara predictably nodded, wide eyes never leaving her own even as she took a sip of water.

'Morinth. That... _thing_... pushing me down, then...' she shook her head, still not able to vocalise what happened, and looked away from Liara, unable to keep the gaze that showed only understanding, love.

'A... and... I _liked _it.' She shuddered. 'It was wrong, _sick, _but I wanted...'

_Wanted more..._

_Wanted release..._

'You know the rest.' She whispered. Liara knew it all. She had shown Liara everything through the union: the overwhelming lust, the shame, and, somehow, felt only sympathy and love in response.

'And now... God... how the hell was that-' she took a deep breath. She _had _to say this, to understand, 'any different to what I did to you?'

She finally looked again to the asari, who had put down the flask and drawn the sheets up around herself. Liara looked thoughtful for a moment, before locking her gaze. 'Because I _know _you care for me. Because you were suffering, because I _was _aware-'

'Stop that!' Why couldn't Liara just be _angry _with her? 'Don't pretend it didn't bother you! I of all people should have known... shouldn't have...'

_I can't even say it... __**coward. **_

Liara's eyes finally flashed with anger. 'What do you want me to say? Yes, you startled me. You should not have done it.'

Despite _wanting _to hear the words, she felt a cold fear grip her.

Liara shook her head harshly. 'But no, it does not change anything: how I feel about you, how _you _feel about _me._' Her voice cooled. 'I _know _you Faith. I have seen everything that you are, and I know it can be terrifying and imperfect.'

The words burned her, shamed her. She had, for so long, kept herself private, put on a mask of professionalism and coldness, buried her emotions for fear of people seeing just how just how unstable they were. But now Liara knew it all, and she _wished _she was a better person, the hero many saw her as, for _her._

Liara's soft hand gently turned her head, so they were looking into each others eyes once again. 'And I _love _you. Do not _ever _doubt that. If I wanted an idealised version of you, I would not be here, now, I would be on my ship, imagining things that are not real. If I truly wanted you to stop last night, I would stopped you myself, but _you _did when I grew uncomfortable, and _you _knew it right away.'

_Why does she have to be so __**good...**_

Liara leaned over and planted a chaste kiss on her cheek. 'I am here for you, however you need.'

Faith rolled to sit, legs hanging off the bed, still uncomfortably damp after the nightmare. Liara was instantly behind her, draped over her body. 'You're too good to me, Liara,' she whispered.

She did not deserve somebody like this.

'And I know you said you wouldn't hear it... but I _am _sorry.'

Liara let out a soft hum, the noise vibrating pleasantly through her. 'Then I forgive you. And I never want to hear of it again.'

Faith let out a small smile, and took Liara's hands, drawing them around herself. 'Thank you.' she whispered, knowing the asari could hear. Perhaps things were not perfect... but she was at peace.

She gasped as Liara gently tugged her backwards. 'Now come back to bed.'

* * *

Kelly was terrified.

When she had joined Cerberus, she had done so with something of a rose-tinted view of the organisation. She accepted that their methods could be harsh, and their past was something she could not comfortably overlook.

But they did a _lot _of good, most of it going unnoticed. She had realised at school that somebody had taken an interest: teachers were treating her slightly differently, hesitantly, but pouring a lot of effort into ensuring she worked at her best. Her parents, whispering quietly about how their money worries had ended, stopping when she entered the room.

But she had thought it was the Alliance. They were always on the lookout for new talent, and she knew from an early age that she was more perceptive than anybody else around her. She had a natural talent for judging people's moods and emotions, matched with a thirst for knowledge that led her to keep extensive records on her teachers, her classmates, to see how people acted around each other, under certain stimuli, when some people were present or not.

She was _fascinated _by people.

It was not the Alliance who eventually got in touch with her. At age seventeen, she had been headhunted by a company who sponsored her university studies, a company she worked for for two years afterwards before learning their status as a Cerberus front.

A bit of digging about the organisation showed their... mixed... credentials. Colonies funded. Terror attacks. Deprived areas on Earth, reformed. Anti-alien sentiments that occasionally crossed the line into active hate.

But she was interested. There _was _a lot of good to be done with them, more than the Alliance at least who had better intentions, but a worse track record of getting things done. As soon as she showed that interest, they had paid for Kelly to receive the very best post-graduate education, offering her training on the side that formal education could not provide: from small arms to basic ship mechanics.

Cerberus spared no expense when it came to their most valued resource.

After several years on other Cerberus teams, finding a valued place for herself as somebody who could make a team of volatile personalities work together with just tiny nudges, discreet conversations and the occasional recommendation to superior officers, she had been offered a place on Shepard's crew.

A dream job.

Working with humanity's best, under the supervision of Cerberus' most decorated officer, on a mission whose importance dwarfed the others she had been involved in.

The substantial paycheck and benefits package certainly did not hurt either.

But things had changed. Shepard had become more open with the Normandy crew, and they had all, herself included, drifted away from thinking of themselves as _Cerberus _employees. They were Shepard's people. The organisation had lost its shine, and when she had received a message, _personally, _from the Illusive Man, requesting that she send over a full psych report on Shepard after they returned through the Relay, she had deleted it.

_The Relay..._

She could barely remember what happened after that filthy, slimy creature had grabbed her, tore away the pistol she had been shakily firing at it, and stuffed her into a capsule as if she were a piece of meat.

She could barely remember the nightmare that had woken her with a scream a few hours ago, after she finally collapsed with exhaustion after so much horror and death. She had called her remaining family to let them know she loved them, that she missed them, that she would do anything for them. It would probably worry them, but she had been terrible at keeping in touch as they raced across the galaxy prior to the attack.

But... Shepard had asked her to come up to her cabin. With her _scissors. _She had taken on the role as the ship's hairdresser: she found that people often talked a lot about what was truly on their minds in such a scenario, but Shepard, wanting a haircut _now_, just seemed...

She giggled nervously, at the absurdity, at the thought that the Commander could be thinking of something so _normal _after so many had been killed.

Maybe... that was how _she _coped with it.

Kelly had never seen anybody she know die before they had passed through the Relay.

Perhaps... perhaps just doing something so mindless would help. She nervously activated Shepard's door alarm.

* * *

The datapad in my hands sits forgotten as I watch Kelly cut Faith's hair. It is absolutely fascinating, and each time the sharp slice sounds I wince a little, still unable to see bits of a person just... cut off... as though it is nothing.

But I am slightly ashamed that that is not the _real _reason for my interest.

Miss Chambers looked ready to faint as she walked through the door, and it was clear she was _not _expecting to see anybody else in the room. Her eyes had widened at Faith's casual dress, wearing just baggy "jeans" and a dark top leaving her shoulders bare, her surprise so clear that she had failed to notice me for several seconds, at which point she had immediately become rather skittish.

But as she sat behind Faith and got to work, the girl relaxed considerably, first happy to be offered a continued place on the ship if she so desired, then as she continued to talk to Faith her body language had also relaxed, and she was speaking almost endlessly, her sweet voice telling stories of her own life, asking questions to both of us that seem innocent enough, but I see in her eyes that she is carefully judging our answers.

It is a... strange, feeling. Neither Faith nor I are particularly talkative, enjoying silence together as much as conversation, but Kelly seems completely oblivious to the fact as her hands drag through Faith's hair, deftly slicing away sections, leaving the remainder short, close to her head.

Does Faith like the questioning, the talking? The sensation of Kelly doing what she is doing with her hair?

An insane, unfounded jealousy; I detected absolutely no attraction to, well, anybody other than myself during our union, but I cannot help but wonder, cannot help but clench my teeth, resist flaring my biotics, every time she runs her slender fingers through Faith's ever shorter hair, every time she asks a personal question, every time Faith answers honestly-

'So, I didn't know you were gay.'

I catch Faith's head jerking up so suddenly that I worry Kelly will cut her ear off, before my mouthful of tea decorates the datapad I am holding.

_Goddess... did she just..._

'W... w...' Faith managed to stutter something more coherent than myself, as I try to vacate the tea working its way into my lungs, eyes stinging.

'I know it's not _technically _gay to fancy asari, I mean I've taken a few to bed myself but I'm quite happy to describe myself as bisexual, or maybe even omni-sexual if you count that turian, I'm just saying there was nothing about it in my psych reports on you, and even_ I _didn't notice during our talks or in your behaviour.'

'Wha... Ke...'

I finally cough the last of the fluid from my throat, and see Faith sitting, frozen, eyes wide as saucers, mouth hanging slightly open while Kelly continues her diatribe as if she were discussing the weather, somehow oblivious to the effect her words were having.

'Well, not that I was especially _looking _for that in you_, _but I do notice, usually when people try to check me out which you never did, but there's also some other things like-'

'Kelly!' Faith somehow chokes out, my own throat startled into silence.

I am well aware of the concept of "gay" and "straight", seeing as every other species has gender, and that most females are exclusively attracted to males, but I was under the impression that it was mostly a private matter: humans are somewhat more liberal-minded than several other species but still not nearly as open as asari, doubly so Faith who is a private person... surely Kelly knows this?!

She stops her actions for a moment, cocking her head slightly. 'Yes, Shepard?'

'Erm... what are you talking about?!' I almost burst out laughing at how purely _outraged _she sounds, not angry or insulted, just... startled, as if she never imagined being questioned in such a way, that it was somehow offending a deeply held sensibility.

Which, I suppose, it is.

'Oh... well it's rather obvious that you and your friend are sleeping together, Shepard,' Kelly looks at me and smiles openly.

_Goddess... _I am so used to being around humans for my casual interactions that Kelly's asari-like openness is startling.

'I think it's adorable, by the way, I've had to turn your head back a dozen times because you keep looking at her,'

_Oh!_ I feel such a flush rising to my cheeks... I was so focused on Kelly that I did not notice Faith looking at me!

'And definitely good for you, I hope Doctor T'Soni is as creative as the asari I've slept with, there's nothing quite like it!'

Surely she cannot be asking Faith for her opinion on my sexual prowess... in my company!

'I can see you care for each other _deeply_,' _Goddess... did she just wink at me? _'so that kind of thing is important, you know? If you want Shepard, I think I've still got some of my old notes on how best to pleasure -'

'God, no!' Faith choked out, blushing bright red. I still remember when I first saw her blush, when I had mistakenly thought she asked me to sleep with her, when in reality she was offering me her bed after a mission... and I thought she was sick! Humans have such a range of colours, it was difficult to keep track of at first.

'Why not?' Kelly sounds truly baffled.

'I just...' Faith looks helplessly at me. I decide to step in, feeling rather bad for her.

'Our sex life is perfectly satisfactory, Miss Chambers, and none of your business.'

'_Satisfactory_? I should hope not...' She shook her head, 'but I can't help it, you two are so adorably in love!'

Goddess... how can she just... know that? Are we so obvious?

I feel a strangely pleased flush at the thought. Perhaps she is right, and we are obvious... would that be so terrible?

And to have an outside party somehow "validate" us is oddly satisfying, despite the horrifically awkward way she is going about it.

'I honestly don't know how I didn't notice it last time you were on board, Doctor T'Soni! And since the crew's mental health is my primary concern, Shepard's included, I just thought-'

'Please, Kelly... don't...' Faith pleaded, looking longingly at me.

The young redhead sighs dramatically, and begins to frisk Faith's shoulders, catching rogue hairs in a bowl she had procured. 'Fine. Well,' she looks again in my direction, eyes dancing wickedly. 'I'm trusting you, Doctor T'Soni, to take good care of her... _mental health_. I think I'm just about done here, and I'm sure I can help somehow with the cleanup crews, if you need me you know where I am!' She stands up and practically skips to the door, which I judge a good move considering her topics of conversation and Faith's shyness.

The bulkhead slams shut behind her, and I finally catch Faith's eyes, noticing she looks as mortified as I feel.

'I... erm...' she brings a hand up, running it through her now radically shorter hair. 'H... how does it look?'

'Erm... good!' It _does _look good, slightly longer than Kaidan's hair was, the strands laying across her head in a somewhat... dramatic... manner, which I decide I like, but I imagine her question was almost as absent minded as my response.

_What just happened?_

'Liara?' I look up, and see Faith standing before me.

'Yes?'

'Can I have a hug?'

* * *

Kelly got into the elevator, very pleased with herself. Shepard and Liara were clearly very close, and though normally she would have been happy just to see such love in horrible times like they were in, she could not resist but to push them even closer together. Shepard's constant attempts to look at the asari, disturbing her haircut, were absolutely adorable in how she did not even notice she was doing it, and Liara's rather obvious jealousy at how she was playing with Shepard's hair had simply sealed the deal.

So what if she decided to embarrass them a bit?

It would bring them closer together, learning to draw on each others strength as they obviously had during the exchange.

She sighed happily, and leaned back against the rail in the elevator. The thing was so slow... and small... and -

_Trapped._

_Suffocating._

_It's oozing into every pore!_

_Faint sobs... mine?... echoing..._

She shook her head, brushing aside the tears forming in her eyes, swallowing back the fear rising at the unwelcome memories.

Shepard was happy. She would live on, with Liara's help, and defeat the Reapers.

In the end, that was _all _that was important to her.

* * *

**_A/N: _**_So people liked the first person sections! I will continue to write Liara in this style, hopefully learning along the way!_

_Thank you Jay8008 and Tayg for the help with this one!_


	13. Chapter 13

_So many... _

The small group of people is dwarfed by the sheer number of coffins behind Shepard, as she speaks words of remembrance, of their courage and strength, dressed in a smart black uniform free of insignia.

I stand slightly apart from the group, acknowledging that I was not part of the team, but Faith insisted I come anyway despite my objections.

Each of the bodies there, is there in part due to me. Involved as I was in helping Cerberus and the Illusive Man pick out and filter down the list of dossiers, I know that had I chosen another, that person might be standing beside me now, rather than lying dead, soon to be forgotten...

I shudder, and try to banish the thoughts, but it proves difficult.

All but one of those dead are human, and Faith told me that there is no single accepted burial practice amongst her people so she is keeping things simple with her ceremony, and will be calling the families of those who had them when it is over.

'_I just wish I had more bodies to return, Liara.'_

I take a deep breath, inhaling the unpleasant scent of Omega. Asari too respect the bodies of those deceased, doubly so our matriarchs such as Samara. I already contacted the Justicar Temple that one of their most respected warriors would be returned to them, and made the arrangements myself. It is a small thing, a small burden to take from her shoulders, and I simply wish I could do more.

Faith keeps her words brief, before listing all eighteen dead.

The names ring out through the otherwise empty dock, before she calls for a moment of silence.

Eighteen dead... the number is not so great, considering what was accomplished.

But the loss is still devastating to those who remain, especially considering the fact that there will be no official recognition of their achievements. Cerberus remain a terrorist organisation. The Collector threat never officially existed.

Once again, a huge scale cover up, costing the dead the dignity of their sacrifice.

I feel Faith silently taking my hand, and I catch her gaze, strong, but I see the emotion swimming just below the surface.

_We _will honour their sacrifice. We will not allow the governments of our species to deny what happened any longer.

* * *

'So... can he just hear us? At any time?'

Tali nodded. 'Imagine him as a much, much more intelligent version of the combat VI in your visor.'

Garrus shook his head, flaring his mandibles slightly. His VI was already intelligent: picking up heat scans, triangulating likely enemy positions based on gunshot echoes and more. 'I still can't get some unpleasant images out of my mind. If nothing else, you'll never be able to have a private conversation again.'

[We have no intention of revealing anything Tali does when not in the company of other organics, and will honour any requests for secrecy she asks of us.]

It was still disconcerting to see her mouthpiece light up as if she was speaking, only for Legion's distorted voice to sound.

'That's not really my point Legion, you'll still be there... watching...'

_**I **__am always here too, Garrus. Watching._

'Spirits...'

Garrus shook his head, looking around the engine room he and Tali were currently occupying, taking a break from the repairs. Shepard had left the ship and repair crew under his command as she sauntered off with Liara, and he deferred to Tali when it came to the repairs.

She was happy to run around yelling at the assorted humans, batarians, asari and occasional vorcha cleaning the ship on the inside and repairing on the outside, but she flat out refused to allow any into the engine room, AI core or bridge. For somebody who could be incredibly gentle, demure and shy in conversation, the second, as she said, _her _ship, was in question she would not suffer any risks, security or otherwise. Most of Aria's people were less than pleased to be bossed around by a rather small quarian girl, but a glare from Garrus, accompanied by the heavy guns on his back, usually got them moving.

He and Tali were the only two of the crew still on the ship. It had been nearly a week since they returned through the Omega 4 Relay, and as soon as Joker had recovered, Shepard had called them all into the Comms room, announcing her intent to give everybody a few weeks to do as they wished. Within a day everybody had left.

The memory was still fresh, vivid, as Shepard stood on the docks of Omega as her crew all said their farewells.

* * *

'_So where are you two off to?'_

_Shepard looked happily at Joker, who was being wheeled by Doctor Chakwas as his bones continued to mend enough to allow him to walk._

'_Arcturus.' Joker piped up, sounding cheerful. 'Got a few old friends there, going to say hello and kick their asses into shape for when the Reapers come.'_

'_I too have several acquaintances there as well, Commander. After that mission, and with what is coming... I will not leave certain things unsaid any longer.'_

'_She's gonna get laid!' chuckled the pilot, grinding all conversation around them to a halt. He looked around for a few seconds. '... Was I not supposed to tell anyone?'_

_Chakwas sighed, and gently pushed his shoulder. 'I think it's time to lower your pain meds again, Jeff.'_

'_You're no fun.' The man looked up to Shepard. 'Erm, and I'm not sure if I said it yet... but sorry Commander, about the whole... getting you killed, thing.'_

_Garrus had not been on the Normandy SR1 during the attack, and had only heard rumours about what happened. To have that kind of guilt on one's' conscience was not a pleasant burden to bear._

'_It's forgiven, Joker. Get better soon, you hear me? We need somebody to fly us to victory.'_

'_In style!' He replied, with a wide grin._

* * *

'So... you're ok with the whole "AI living in your suit" thing?'

'It's taking a bit of getting used to, but I have to admit he has been rather helpful so far. I've already ordered some pieces from the markets on Omega which he will be able to run: my suit will be far more advanced than any other quarian's, more powerful in combat and so on. He said using the existing recordings of my combat actions, he can predict when I would do things like overload enemy shields, and do it for me, leaving me free to shoot. He can also increase the efficiency of my hacking.'

Garrus shook his head. Tali still sounded like she was trying to convince herself. 'So you're really sticking with him?'

* * *

'_Heh... I... I guess this is goodbye.'_

_Crewman Hawthorne looked nervous: understandably. He was the only of the operations crew to survive the attack, and had been jumpy ever since they had returned. Kelly had been spending a fair amount of time with him, but he was mostly keeping to himself. Shepard had taken him aside the day before, and spent a full three hours alone with him before both emerged from his quarters, looking slightly more relaxed._

'_The Alliance has agreed to take you in, give you all that you need, including a job.'_

"_All that you need" likely included some substantial therapy, Garrus noted, and the "job" would hopefully be one involving a little less stress._

'_I... I know. And thanks again, Commander. I can't ever thank you enough.' The man stood straight, and saluted, nervous shakes finally dissipating for a brief second._

_Shepard snapped off a perfect military salute in return. 'Thank _you _for your service, Crewman Hawthorne. Dismissed.'_

_The man nodded and smiled shakily, before wandering off to find Joker and Chakwas._

* * *

'Yes, it's obviously going to take some getting used to, but Legion really wants to help me. I...' She suddenly stopped, sounding a bit embarrassed. 'He said he can work with my immune system, perhaps let me live without a mask on board the Normandy in a few years. Take it off for brief periods without getting really sick in just months.'

He felt his heart jump a little at the revelation. 'Really?'

She nodded, obviously shy. 'It will take some time, but he's confident it will work.' She glanced towards him. 'You'll be able to see the _real _me.'

_To see Tali_... he knew how, in general, quarians looked: there was a fair bit of mystery but between the extranet and his own experience at c-sec, he recognised their alien features; similar in a strange way to humans, like asari were, but to actually see Tali...

'That sounds... nice.' He winced internally as the weak words came out.

'You don't sound impressed...' Tali sounded hurt, and he reached over and put a hand on her arm.

'I didn't mean it like that, I just... I already _know _the real you. I don't need to see your face for that.'

* * *

'_So you're visiting your family?'_

_The young redhead nodded enthusiastically. 'My parents and brothers have been worried about me for years, ever since I joined Cerberus. I obviously can't tell them much about what I do, but it'll be good to see them.'_

_Shepard smiled at her, nodding as well. 'And will you return?'_

_Kelly straightened, and her eyes filled with a determination Garrus had seen a lot of recently. 'Yes. There are... hard... memories here, but since you asked...'_

'_I wouldn't have done so if I didn't think you were valuable, Kelly.'_

_Garrus considered what Shepard could mean. He knew the woman did not particularly like psychologists, but now that he thought about it..._

_Kelly had always been there whenever things were getting tense, often just offering a joke, breaking the tension, or having a quiet talk with somebody missing home, and she had been the one asking him awkward questions about Tali that first led him to question if his feelings were anything more than friendship. More examples popped into his mind and he wondered just how much Kelly had done to keep the team together, without him even noticing, without them ever giving thanks._

_Kelly suddenly embraced Shepard, who looked startled for a second, before returning the gesture._

'_Thank you, Shepard! I'll... I'll be back when you call. I promise.'_

* * *

_Spirits, I sound like a human in a bad romance story..._

'Oh...'

_I really wish I hadn't said that..._

'Keelah...'

_She hates me..._

'Garrus, that's **so **sweet!'

He gasped as she suddenly flung her arms around him, and he awkwardly tried to avoid jabbing her with any of his unfortunately sharp body parts as he took her shoulders and pushed her back a little, mandibles flaring in pleasure.

'Erm, yeah... don't tell anyone, ok? I've got a reputation to keep!'

* * *

_'Goodbye, Battlemaster. Tuchanka is calling me.'_

_Shepard gripped the huge krogan's arm. 'Wrex will teach you well, Urdnot Grunt. Do me proud.'_

_His toothy grin widened. 'Always, Battlemaster. You promised me the fight of the galaxy and gave it. I'll teach those wimps on Tuchanka how a real krogan fights!'_

_Shepard smiled openly at that. 'I'm glad to hear it. One day I'll come calling, Grunt-'_

'_And I'll answer!' He roared in response, before she could even finish, and Garrus could swear he saw something in Shepard's eye, a glistening pride, before she blinked and nodded, the look gone but the smile still there._

'_Get out of here you brute, before things get sappy.'_

* * *

'A _reputation_?' He really did not like the mischief in her tone, and dreaded where she was going with it.

'Garrus Vakarian, the turian bad boy... voted most eligible bachelor by three separate species for two years running...'

_Oh no..._

'Vigilante extraordinaire, one of the heroes of the Citadel...'

_Please stop..._

'Is really a big _softie!_'

* * *

'_Ahm just sayin', we go te Scotland and ah'll get ye a _real _haggis, none o'this wee frozen shite ye get in space.'_

'_And that's exactly why I _don't _want us to go to Scotland! My parents live on a beach, Ken! A beach!'_

'_Scotland's got beaches!'_

'_I mean a nice, warm, beach you _want _to visit, where you can sunbathe!'_

'_Bah, ye can keep yer heat... wait... sunbathe?'_

'_Yup. There's sun, sand, cocktails-'_

'_Bikinis?'_

'_You dog...'_

_Shepard finally broke into the pair's rather amusing dialogue. 'I guess you're decided then?_

_Ken gave her a grin. 'Aye, we're goin' te visit Gabby's parents, and... _sunbathe_.'_

_Shepard chuckled lightly. 'Make sure you put your eyes back in when you get the call.'_

'_We'll be ready, Shepard.' Gabby took over. 'Whenever you are.'_

_The pair of engineers saluted Shepard, who returned the gesture. 'Enjoy your leave guys, you've earned it.'_

'_Nay worries there Shepard, ahm gonna have a fab holiday!' Garrus wondered if the pair of them would ever get together as Ken gave Gabby a suggestive glance, and she simply rolled her eyes with a smile._

* * *

'Ok... what's your price for silence?' he said, wincing, knowing just how bad this could get.

'Oh no! You don't get away that easily. You'll just have to _live_, knowing that I know just how big of a _softie _you are, and could tell anybody at any time!'

'That's just not fair!'

'No, it really isn't.' She sounded far too pleased with herself.

* * *

'_Shepard. Going to speak to contacts in STG. Work with Collector data. Perhaps join research teams through Omega 4 Relay when Council and governments finally take action.' He drew in a breath. 'Bureaucracy problematic; will organise my own. Reputation solid enough to guarantee funding and expertise.'_

_Shepard nodded. 'Good. They couldn't ask for a better expert.'_

_Mordin looked thoughtful for a second. 'Dislike goodbyes. Messy. Needlessly emotional. Will likely see you again when war starts, perhaps before.' _

_He could see Shepard smirk silently, expecting him to go on. The salarian did not disappoint._

'_Still... has been an honour, Shepard. Would like to stay on board Normandy: found welcome place for myself. But can do more good with STG.'_

'_I know, Mordin. And the honour was mine. Take care of yourself.'_

'_You also. Will forward data on asari pleasure customs, creative uses of biotic fields, so on. A gift, as thanks.' Garrus nearly choked as Shepard muttered her response:_

'_Why the hell does everybody think I need help in the bedroom?'_

* * *

'So you're really just going to hold this on me?' He did not really feel outraged, but was having so much fun just joking with her, even if it had gotten a little... intense.

'Well, perhaps there's _one _thing you can do for me...' He really did not like the way her head tilted just to the side, as if screaming "innocence" when her tone said anything but.

* * *

'_Where will you go?'_

'_Kolyat has been sending me messages, I will visit him to see how he is doing at C-Sec.'_

'_That sounds good. What then?'_

_The man blinked, clasping his hands behind his back. 'I do not know. My recovery after the assault was seriously hampered by my illness: I believe my fighting days are behind me. I shall see if I can find a less... active... use of my skills to assist the war effort.'_

_Shepard nodded. 'It would have been good to have you along Thane, but I understand. I wish you the best, and give Kolyat my regards.'_

_The drell bowed deeply. 'It has been an honour, Siha. You have given my life purpose in more ways than one, and I face death with an open heart.'_

_Shepard saluted in response, both giving gestures of respect as their race and upbringing dictated._

* * *

'I'm not going to like it, am I?'

'Well, that all depends.' Garrus really wished she did not sound so... evil.

'Erm... on what?'

'On whether you meant what you said or not.'

_Oh..._

'Of course I meant it, Tali.' he said seriously, tentatively putting a hand over one of hers.

* * *

'_I know you're here somewhere, Kasumi.' Shepard spoke loudly, words echoing around the rapidly emptying dock._

_The girl shimmered to life right beside Garrus, causing him to jump. He _hated _it when she did that, and only ever seemed to do it to him..._

'_I hope I've still got everything in my pockets...' he muttered, patting them down._

'_Come on now Gare, you know I don't pickpocket friends.' He cocked his head at her, and saw her lips pout, before she held out a rather astounding quantity of his possessions: omni-tool, spare lens for his visor, a datapad he had stashed, and a credit chit. 'Erm... without giving it back anyway... I just wanted to see how long it would take you to notice!'_

'_Kasumi...' Shepard growled, but she had a small smirk on her face. _

_The thief approached Shepard. 'Sorry Shep, old habits.' She pushed back her hood and looked up into the taller woman's eyes. 'Look... I'm not sure how to say this. I can't do it any more. I'm not a soldier Shep, I can't just watch so many people die and go back to whatever we were doing before.'_

'_We'll all be soldiers soon, Kasumi. There won't be anywhere to hide when they come.'_

_Garrus felt a chill run down his spine at the words. When the Reapers came, all would be war. It was easy, spending so much time amongst soldiers, to forget that there were billions of people just like Kasumi: who didn't want to fight, who weren't used to seeing people die._

'_I... I know.' She looked down, before around at the remaining team. 'Maybe I'll come back, once the fighting starts. But I don't know if I can. I'm sorry.'_

_Shepard nodded, placing a hand on the girl's... she was so young, he could see without her hood... shoulder. 'I understand. You'll always have a place with us, if you want it. Thank you for your help, Kasumi.'_

'_I would say "any time", but... well, you know.' She drew her hood back up. 'Goodbye, Shep.'_

_She took a few steps away towards the bustling market district of Omega, before disappearing into the air._

* * *

'I... oh...' she sounded slightly taken aback by the seriousness in his voice.

They sat in silence for some time, the gentle hum of the engine surrounding them comfortably. Garrus did not move his hand, and Tali made no move to break the contact either.

After a few seconds, he caught her gaze, and spoke quietly.

'So... what were you going to say?'

* * *

'_You sure you want to stay, Garrus?'_

_Everybody else had left now, and it was just Shepard, Tali, Liara and himself standing by the Normandy's dock. The old team, less a couple of people..._

_He nodded firmly. 'Tali's staying to oversee the repairs, and I don't want to leave her alone.' Not that the woman could not handle herself, but there were a lot of unsavoury characters on Omega, and it _would _be nice to spend some time alone with her..._

'_I can look after myself you silly bosh'tet,' the quarian herself quipped, though he could hear the amusement in her voice. He had already spoken to her about this, and both were secretly looking forward to it._

'_Well, I wouldn't want to leave you and Legion to get into whatever trouble you have been plotting...' _

_[Geth do not plot.]_

'_See, even _he_ thinks you're being silly!' Tali followed up._

_Shepard finally stepped in with a smile. 'Well, I'm trusting you two to take care of my ship, ok? You know how to get in touch, Liara's set my omni-tool so it will only ring if it's one of you calling, anybody else will get put through to you, Garrus.'_

'_Quite right!' Tali added, 'You two don't want people disturbing your pilgrimage!'_

_Liara joined in. 'It is not...' she cocked her head, and smiled gently. 'Well, I suppose the term could be applicable. But you are correct, we do not want any interruptions.'_

_Garrus noticed how her fingers threaded together with Shepard's. With how many fingers they had between them, it looked... unnatural, and rather complicated. Much simpler with hands like his._

_He glanced down, seeing his hand hovering close to his friend's._

_Or hands like Tali's..._

_He pulled his attention back to Shepard and Liara. 'Stop worrying about us Shepard, and get going. In truth, we just can't wait to see the back of you.'_

_She smirked and punched him softly in the arm. 'Fine, we're going. Don't go vigilante on me while I'm gone this time.'_

'_Farewell, my friends, I look forward to spending more time with you when we return.' Liara added with a smile, and they both turned, hoisted up their packs and wandered slowly away, still clasping each others' hands._

'_Bye!' Tali shouted after them, before turning to him and grabbing one of his hands, the touch sending sparks across his scales._

'_They're gone!'_

* * *

'I... I was going to say, I'll not tell anyone... erm...'

He stayed silent, letting her finish.

'If... if you agree to be the first... person I... I show.'


	14. Chapter 14

I look over to Faith, whose face is unreadable. We are both dressed in casual clothes; she, in particular, took great efforts to ensure she would not be recognised. She is dressed in rough, blue trousers made of something called "denim" and a dirt coloured button down shirt she acquired at some point, and is surprisingly wearing heavy makeup around her eyes. Combined with her recent haircut, it would take _me _a second glance to put the woman beside me with the photos of Commander Shepard in her signature black and red armour.

My own clothes are similar, the heavy duty fabric scratching against my skin in a slightly unpleasant manner, but she told me that a dress would be unsuitable for our destination.

The shuttle will land in about 5 minutes. I take Faith's hand, surprised by how warm and damp it is. 'Are you ok?'

She closes her eyes slightly, before turning back to look at me. 'I haven't been back here since the attack. Apparently... apparently they rebuilt it. They use my damned face on the _colonial seal_, Liara. All that's left of everyone else is a little memorial I was too scared to attend the unveiling of.'

'We do not have to do this, if you do not want to.' I say, concerned.

'No... I want to see this through. And I want to do it with you.'

She shuffles closer, so our sides are pressed together, and I can feel her body heat warming me. When she told me her plan to visit her old home, to say I was startled would be a gross understatement. There will be pain here for her, but I sensed in our melds that with all the time she spent fulfilling her crews' wishes, cleansing old wounds, she felt a deep desire to do _something _about her own past, even if she is not sure what it is.

'Tell me about Mindoir,' I have heard stories, of course, but little about the planet, the colony, itself. I lean in and rest my head gently on her shoulder, sensing Faith's desire for closeness.

'It's a fairly small farming colony, just a few hundred people when the attack hit. It was first settled before the Alliance even existed; back when humanity was just turning on any Relays we could find and settling any planet remotely habitable, before we'd even made contact with any aliens.

'My parents were nobody special, not scientists or soldiers or anything, just bodies needed to put a proper presence on the planets.' Her voice suddenly fills with an emotion I cannot name. 'But they wanted to explore the stars, live out adventures like the pioneers in our stories. They were crammed with a few hundred others into the cargo hold of a beaten up ship with not nearly enough supplies. Mum was pregnant with me as they travelled; I think the engine was leaky and that's where I got my biotics, but I don't really know.

'Anyway, where the colony was set up was a fairly desolate place. No luscious fields or anything, it's hard land: hot, doesn't rain that much, so there's only a few things that grow. There is... or was... a town with shops and things, which is where we're going, and a bunch of farms a bit further out, where I lived. It was tough, but my parents made pretty good of it, and when we finally got involved with the Council we got some alien crops that grew really well, and ended up a bit better off than most of the other colonies in the traverse.'

I had been deeply involved in my research at this point, too focused to properly follow galactic politics, though I do remember several of my colleagues commenting on the intense new species bullying their way into the galaxy, making a rather dramatic impression.

'I...' she gently leans her head on top of mine. 'You know about the attack. About a year afterwards, they started resettling the place. Most of the buildings were still intact: Alliance said the batarians leave them on the offchance we _do _resettle so they can come back for more slaves, but they never did.'

The silence draws out for a few more seconds, before she straightens slightly. 'That's about it. It's a thoroughly uninteresting place really, Liara.'

I smile, despite knowing she cannot see. 'So what do you want to do while we are here?'

'You know, I've got absolutely no idea. I booked a small house: used your name... ah, and money, sorry, but otherwise I guess I just want to see how everything is. Maybe... just see that it's still there. I don't know if that will help, but...' Her voice trails off. I do not know what brought her here, but I am glad we are together. Perhaps, if we have time, I will take her somewhere a little less emotionally charged when we next have a break.

_A break..._

Goddess, this is likely to be our final chance to properly relax together for some time, what a depressing thought!

But we have our time now.

I squeeze the hand still in mine. 'Thank you for bringing me.'

The shuttle suddenly jolts, and a bearded human bearing a remarkable resemblance to Joker opens the door between the passenger and pilot's areas. I wonder if it a requirement of human pilots to have poor hygeine?

'We're at... wha...' his mouth droops open slightly. Of course: we are now in human space where many have likely not seen people of other species before... never mind in close embrace with one of their own kind. We both straighten up, before Faith prompts him with a smile.

'Yes?'

'Erm... wha... oh yeah.' his eyes suddenly clear, though they do not leave my face. 'Erm, we're at the colony now, that's, erm, a hundred credits.'

* * *

Faith could not help but chuckle as she made her way through the familiar layout to the address of the house they would be staying in. There had been some attempt to lay down proper paving over the natural hard earth of Mindoir, but it was still incomplete and most of the ground around them was the same dusty brown she remembered. The buildings were the same as before, almost startlingly so, considering the time that had passed, but somehow... _different. _Most had been repainted into different colours, where there used to be a small store there was now an outpost of a galactic bank, and none of the faces were the same.

She felt a slight pull of sadness at the fact, but it was drowned by sheer, self depreciating amusement.

'What?' the asari beside her asked.

_Surely she has noticed?_

'I think my plan to stay low key was scuppered when I brought a beautiful asari with me.'

People had stopped what they were doing in the streets, were looking out of windows, were even, she noticed, pulling up in the few skycars the planet had, to see _the alien_.

Faith had not even considered it. Many of the people here had probably never seen a non-human in person before, and if they had, it was almost certainly not on their planet, walking their streets. She had decided against holding Liara's hand when she first noticed the attention: they were getting enough of it as it was.

Liara glanced about, noting the stares for the first time, and ducked her head as her face heated. 'Goddess, I did not notice, I was admiring the interesting blend of architectural influences used in the construction of this town.'

_Ever the archaeologist..._

In Liara's defence, Faith considered, the town was rather... _unique._

Some of the oldest buildings had been constructed from wood, brick, and sheet metal brought with the original settlers, though were now reinforced with more modern materials. Those made up the core of the town: the oldest shops, the government building, the police station. Around them lay a large number of pre-fabs, bought en masse once the colony got its first major funding round from Earth. Finally, more complete buildings were dotted around, clearly well constructed from modern materials: homes and businesses set up by the huge investment the Alliance had poured into it, as a statement of defiance, of continuing strength. There was no single style: the colony had started with practically nothing, its residents making do with what little they had, and had slowly grown from there.

'Most of our older colonies look a bit like this,' she said, feeling somewhat ashamed. All she had seen of asari architecture was beautiful, sweeping buildings, ageless, immense, like the structures on Illium.

'It is incredible, I believe I could accurately track each stage in this colony's development with just the buildings! And the use of limited materials is ingenious, I can see places where damaged walls have been replaced by pieces of what must be decommissioned vehicles, it is no wonder you are so adept at adapting to adverse circumstance, having grown up in such a place! And then to compare it all with the modern buildings... fascinating!'

_Screw it. _

She took Liara's hand and pulled the asari into a hug, being non-too subtle about where her hands came to rest, eliciting gasps from some of the onlookers.

'I love you, Liara T'Soni.'

'I... oh, Goddess... Faith, there are people watching!' Liara was blushing furiously, trying to look anywhere but at the people around them.

'Let them.' She grinned and pulled Liara onwards, suddenly free of any embarrassment, the tension she had been feeling melt away. She was the hero of the Citadel, first human Spectre, destroyer of the Collectors. She was allowed to take her asari girlfriend on holiday. 'Come on, we're close now, just a few more minutes.'

'Do you know the place we are staying?' Liara sounded nervous, looking at all of the humans around them.

'Sort of. It's a little way out of town so there won't be lots of people around, but the person who owns it lives just around the corner. Whoever they are, they know your name so hopefully they won't kick up a fuss about you being asari, and have some way to take us out there.'

'Is that likely?'

'Hmm... not really. Unless they imported a bunch of racists to replace who used to live here, he'll probably just be more curious than anything. If he says anything too rude I'll break his face.'

'Faith!' Liara gently slapped the human's arm, but both were smiling.

_I could do this forever..._

They turned the final corner, to a group of old, rusting pre-fabs. Faith led them down the path, tossing a glance over her shoulder. Most of the people still following them had stopped at the end of the street.

_Curious._

'Ok... the message said he was in...' she saw the distinctive red markings the owner had described in his mail. 'This one.'

She strode ahead, and pounded the door. 'I paid ahead... sorry again, I thought the Shadow Broker could spare a few credits for us... so hopefully he'll just take us straight out without any-'

'Well grease me up and fuck me sideways. Faith? Faith Shepard?'

* * *

Faith's face suddenly loses all of its colour, and I tilt my head to see the person at the door. It is an elderly human male, with brilliant white hair on both the top of his head, and around his mouth, neatly trimmed but substantially thick. He is dressed in dark, baggy clothes of little discernable shape, but it does little to hide his wiry frame.

'N... no!' Goddess, she sounds terrified!

'Say it all you like girl, the Lord won't change it just 'cos you say so, hero or not!' he, on the other hand, just sounds amused... what is going on here?

'Well don't stand there gawping like some fucking idiot, Faith, come on in! Damn!' His eyes suddenly catch mine, and I have to resist shuddering at the brilliant green, undimmed by his age. 'Are _you _Liara T'Soni? Or is it just Faith being the little shit she always was? Bah screw it, come in! Come in!'

The man literally pulls Faith into his house and I follow, somewhat dazed.

As he slams the door shut behind us, I am relieved to see Faith has somewhat regained her composure, and is instead looking shocked, rather than ready to collapse. 'Father John?'

Goddess, could this possibly be her father?

Of course not, she saw him dead, but-

'That's right, you didn't think you were the only one who survived those fucks did you? Damn, you look just like your mum did. Sit your fine ass down, I'll make you some coffee before you faint.'

The man disappears through a tiny door to the side, leaving us standing in a small room with two grubby looking couches. Faith promptly drops her bags and slumps onto one, where I quickly follow and take her hand.

'Faith, who is that man?'

'I... he was... is... the... erm, religious leader, around here...' Her eyes meet mine, wide and absolutely uncertain, like a child's. 'I thought he was dead! I... I thought everyone was dead...'

'Takes more than some ugly ass aliens to kill me, girl!' Father John's loud voice echoes through the small building, and I lower my voice. I know, deep down, that I should have other things on my mind right now, but -

'That man is a religious leader? My translator struggled to keep up with his speech, and what it did catch was mostly expletives! Is that human custom? Asari priestesses are-'

'Tell your friend she don't need to whisper, Faith, we don't have that fancy translator shit out here!'

Oh, he cannot understand me...

Her gaze clears somewhat, evidently glad for the tiny distraction. 'Erm... oh yeah, he's always like that. The man got people from four major religions under his roof at the same time every week, he's allowed to be a bit... erm...'

'Say what you think! The Lord don't take weasels for shit!' This situation is even more baffling than Kelly's questioning!

'Unconventional.'

He suddenly appears in the doorway, bearing a tray with a large canister of liquid and several cups upon it.

'That's it? Shit Faith, you've lost your touch.' He looks to me suddenly. 'I'm guessin' you understand me well enough?'

'Yes-' Oh, of course...

I nod.

'Good, makes things a bit easier. Our gal here used to be a little hellcat, gave as good as she got, guess she's changed.' It is sometimes difficult enough to reconcile the battlefield terror with the shy woman I know, but to imagine her an unruly child as well? Goddess...

'Anyway, you like coffee?' The man's gaze still has not left mine, other than to flicker at our intertwined hands for a brief second, and he sits in the other couch, pouring three mugs of the steaming brown liquid.

Another nod.

'Good, glad there's somethin' we can give to aliens other than bullets. Want it Irished up?' He suddenly brandishes a small metal hipflask and waves it in my direction.

_Too much... _

'I am sorry-' Oh, of course! I turn to Faith. 'I do not understand. What is "Irished"?'

A ghost of a smile flickers across her lips, still much more pale than I like to see. 'He means do you want alcohol in it? Damn, but I do.'

'Good girl, glad there's still some of the old you in there!' He pours a substantial measure of amber liquid into one of the mugs, handing it to Faith, before fixing my gaze again.

Goddess, his eyes are terrifying, dancing with an intelligence that reminds me of mother!

'You in?'

I nod slowly, afraid to say no if nothing else.

'Good! Gotta say, I've not met a... shit... what're you called again...'

'Asari, Father,' Faith offers, before taking a deep draw from her drink.

'That's the one. You're a beautiful thing, Faith's done well for herself. I hope you treat her well, I'm always looking out for-'

'Gah! Shit, I can't just sit here!' I do not think I have ever heard her so distressed!'Ok, what the hell? How are you alive?'

To his credit, the man only arches an eyebrow in her direction, as he takes a sip from his coffee.

Suddenly the quirk in his lips disappears, and I almost gasp at the transformation in the man. His eyes lose their shine, and the green turns from a wonderful brightness into a deep, terrifying ocean. It is like watching Faith put on her armour, with just a tiny shift in his facial expression!

'When they came, I had a few kids in for daycare. Just fucking babies, you know? Biggest kid was just two. Hid them, and myself, in the cellar under my church. Most terrifying thing I've ever done.'

Goddess... that look in his eyes...

'They didn't find us. They... ah... came into the church, but didn't look around too hard when they didn't find shit.'

'I saved half a dozen kids... fuck. Some life I saved 'em into. No parents, nothin'. You had a chance, Faith. You was educated, best as we could do out here, knew what it was to work, knew what it was to do your duty. Those kids just got stuck in the Alliance somewhere, some foster care program, dunno, the soldiers just took the kids off me, kickin' an' screamin' for their mamas. Hope they turned out ok.'

The silence drags out for some time, before I feel Faith's hand squeezing my own, hard.

'What then?'

'What then?' The man's laugh sends chills up my spine. 'Then I got all kinds of medals, celebrations, fucking bullcrap. There was so much shit around Mindoir at the time I'm not surprised you didn't hear about it all, took years just to sort out those of us who used to live here from the parasites who turned up after, lookin' for Alliance creds.'

'And why didn't you deserve the medals?' Her voice is cold, harsh... the voice of Commander Shepard, but tinted with an emotion I know she tries so hard to hide at times.

'Ha, guess the batarians, the fuckin' Alliance, couldn't beat that outta you. Too damned smart for your own good, Faith. Well, yer right. I didn't deserve shit. Only one reason those fucking slavers didn't find us. Too quiet in the church.

'_Too _quiet.'

His voice drops to a whisper, and I feel a dread running through my body.

'One of the kids... just a babe... fuck... wouldn't shut up.'

_Goddess..._

'It... it was us or him.'

_Oh... no..._

'The other kids were pissin' themselves, but doin' it quietly, this... this fucking baby, just wouldn't shut up, for just a second...

_Please... no..._

'So I... made him quiet. Just meant to knock him out for a while, you know?' The man visibly shuddered, and suddenly looked every one of his advanced years, before he glanced up, eyes full of a determination I know all too well. 'But sometimes life's a bitch. Saved a bunch of kids, all I had to do was murder a babe.'

The man sips his coffee, before putting it down and drinking straight from the flask.

'You... learn a lot about yourself, when you feel a bit o' your soul burn away like that. You've both got... got that look that says you know what I'm talkin' about, so I'm gonna suggest we talk about somethin' else.'

We both nod.

'Good. Not enough hours in the day to sit around regrettin'. Gotta say Faith, you're a bit of a hero around here, first heard about you when you finally stuck it to those bastard batarians on Torfan, and now, what was it, Spectre? You're doin' us all proud, and I know your parents would be.'

* * *

The man's eyes lit up again, the transformation as startling as when he began to talk about the attack. He was just as Faith remembered, age and all.

'So, what's a hero doing back on our lonely rock anyway?

'We're on holiday.' Faith shot him a dirty smirk, which he returned.

'Holiday? Here? I think something's come loose in your lovely skull, girl!'

She grinned. 'I was maybe hoping to put some old wounds to rest, as well. It's really good to see you, Father, I'm glad something other than me survived.'

He looked thoughtful for a second, then nodded. 'I can understand that. And it's damned good to see you too Faith, you've grown into a fine woman. A few of us made it through, but... the colony's never been the same. We've got more people now, but it's been years and I still see most of them as strangers. Bet they think I'm just the crazy preacher who keeps to himself most of the time, that's how it goes. I still get a full house every week though. You can come along tomorrow if you like, I know you never believed like yer mum wanted you to but I still got some wisdom to give, if you'll hear it.'

Faith turned to Liara. 'What do you think? It'll be an eye opener for you, if nothing else.'

The asari nodded, smiling softly. 'I would like that.'

'I take it that's a yes?' the man looked eager, excited.

'That's right.' Faith nodded. 'If you've still got your touch maybe you can distract the people here from Liara for a few seconds.'

'Still got my... you cheeky fuck! Ha, damn, girl I'm truly glad you're back, it's good to see something of the old days still livin' other than me. Look, I'll drive you out to the house, I'm sure you're sick of listening to me ramble.'

As he led them to his car, Faith felt a strange peace descend upon her. Seeing Father John, alive, despite his horrible story, filled her with a hope she had never thought to feel when she planned the return, made her feel like the unruly sixteen year old who had swearing matches with the old man.

He still had his ancient, wheeled car, and she hopped into the back with Liara as the man continued to prattle.

'I've got everything set up for you, it's that shitty little hut the Thompsons used to live in, I bought it and rent it out to whatever visitors we get. Nothin' fancy but it's clean and there's some food, I'm sure you can pick up whatever else you need. Dunno if you'll find anything for your friend, though, we don't get aliens around here.'

'Don't worry, Liara can eat human food.'

'Really? Well there's somethin'. Dunno what you're gonna do out here for fun though... unless... hey, you still ride?'

Faith's heart leapt. A few horses had been shipped over from Earth with the original colonists and she had occasionally gone for rides with her sisters, and she felt a vivid excitement begin to build. Either the batarians had left the herd alone, or more had been shipped over with the rebuilding of the colony.

The thought of riding out on the open plains, just herself and Liara and the horses, had her tingling with anticipation.

'Not since I left.'

'Ha, that kinda thing doesn't go away. If you like, I'll talk to the gal who can get you set up and you can take your friend out, bareback.'

Despite speeding his car across the open plain, them having left the town a few minutes ago, John craned his head back to look at Liara, who was sitting quietly.

'What d'you say, Blue? Fancy lettin' Faith take you riding? I'm not sure there's much more I can do for you than that.'

Liara shot Faith a nervous glance. 'I am not sure I understand the context of "riding" or "bareback", Faith, is this man offering to improve our sex life?'

* * *

_**A/N: **Thank you Jay8008 for beta reading._

_I want to again thank everybody who continues to read, favourite, follow and review my work. You guys rock, and make this whole venture all the more exciting :-)_


	15. Chapter 15

The door slammed shut, and without any further ceremony Faith dropped all of her belongings and slumped into a couch occupying one of the walls of the small, wooden cabin.

'Fuck.' She did not swear often any more; it, like a lot of her younger life, had been burned away by the batarian attack. The release felt _good, _burned her tongue in a way alcohol had ceased to since she had been rebuilt.

Liara was there instantly, at her side, belongings forgotten by the door. 'Faith...'

The human waved her hand dismissively, attempting to ease Liara's concern. 'I'm ok, honestly, I just... I wasn't expecting _him, _you know? I thought I'd come out, see what they'd done with the place, spend_ a whole _lot of time with you in our cabin, and just... relax. Hell, I was half expecting you to get bored and drag me somewhere nice like Nevos.'

Liara stayed quiet, letting Faith talk, as she took up a more comfortable place beside the human.

'But, seeing Father- _ha_, wonder if he'd let me call him John now... God, that old git was some of the only fun we had out here. I'd sit and insult the ancient coot, and he'd give it right back; then he'd give me and my friend Mike a sip from that flask he's still got... he was the only kid near my age on the colony then.'

She was rambling, and she didn't care. Faith had never spoken of these stupid, insignificant things, but now Liara was there, listening, and it was _wonderful_.

'He always called it "lubing up", which in hindsight is a little... creepy... heh. My mum would have killed me if she ever found out, but John never told her and I think Mikey was too dim to say anything.'

Liara took her hand, speaking hesitantly. 'You have never spoken to me about your parents, other than to mention them in passing.'

Faith had never spoken to anybody about her parents since the attack, had barely even thought about them, mostly out of a drive to protect herself. She _had _noticed that she slipped little memories of them into her conversations with Liara more and more, and rather than panicking her as it might have done in the past, she felt almost excited at the prospect of talking about them.

'Carl. And... Emily.' She said slowly, as if testing the words to see if they were indeed correct. The names, so long unspoken, caused a rush of emotion so strong that she had to swallow back the thick feeling at the back of her throat. 'They... came from Earth. Both were professionals of some sort there, but left it all behind when the call went out that we would be colonising other planets. I don't know if they had any family back there... if I still have any left; cousins or grandparents or something. I always wondered about finding out, since the Alliance keeps pretty comprehensive dna and genetic records on all of its soldiers. But I never did. They'd be strangers to me. Before, I said that mum was pregnant with me as they travelled; I think she lied to get on the ship, she wanted... they both wanted...' She shut her eyes and took a deep breath. 'They wanted to see the stars, to be able to say they were some of the first humans to live on another planet, to have one of the first kids born in space. They got it all, and whenever they spoke about it, their eyes would light up like...'

A gentle touch skimmed along her cheekbone, and she opened her eyes to see Liara, eyes wide, looking at her with lips curled into a warm smile.

'What are you smiling at?'

'You, Faith. I cannot say how wonderful it is to hear you speak like this.' The asari leaned in, and brushed her lips across Faith's cheek. 'Tell me more.'

Faith wrapped an arm around Liara, and pulled the asari in. 'Like I said they used to be professionals, but none of that mattered out here. They worked for one of the farmers here for a while, until they'd learned enough to set up their own. Most people did it that way since there were so few people who actually knew anything about growing crops and keeping animals, but for as long as I was here there were never any complaints: there was just so much land for so few people and everybody was too busy being excited about living in space to argue over the kind of stuff that they might have done on Earth.'

Faith had been put to work as soon as she was old enough, helping out with chores when she was not at school with the several dozen other children of assorted ages, all younger than her. There was a gap of seven years between her and the next oldest person there, since so few colonists had brought young children with them, and was expected to help with teaching the younger kids as well as learning what she could from the pair of teachers. What Father John had said about learning her duty was true: when she joined the Alliance, she was shocked at how casually some of the others, usually the space brats, approached their training and responsibilities.

She took another deep breath. 'They loved each other. You could see it every time they looked at each other. I used to think it was gross whenever I saw them hugging or kissing, but I think I know how they felt now.' Faith suddenly leaned down and took Liara's dark lips with her own, causing the asari to gasp in surprise, before sitting back, pleased.

'They were so different to each other. Mum was pretty intense, very religious like I think I've said, though she never actually followed any specific religion: most of them were shaken to their core when we first touched the stars and we're still trying to figure out how to fit everything with our own ideas, which I think is why John's sermons are so popular. She did a lot of odd jobs around the place, never stopped working. When she wasn't on the farm she was helping the teachers out, getting involved in adjudicating some of the issues that popped up every now and again, arguing with the traders who stopped by for better deals on provisions, basically sticking her nose in other peoples' business.'

Liara chuckled at that. 'That sounds like somebody I know.'

Faith bumped her shoulder into the asari's, grinning. 'Hush. Like I said she was intense, and could be pretty terrifying at times, but she wanted to help strengthen the community, and was so... good. She always forced me to be a better person, saying if I did do something wrong I should admit it, move on, and learn from it.' She hesitated, thinking of some of the decisions she had made over her career. 'I don't think she'd approve of a lot of what I've done, but I hope she would understand the reasons.'

'You do what you do to help people, to save them.'

'I... I know. But I always wonder if some of the sacrifices I have made are worth it.' She thought of poor David Archer, who was probably sobbing in uncomprehending terror, right now, because _she _decided that his pain was an acceptable cost against the potential of averting war with the geth. A choice she had no right to make for him, but did anyway.

'The fact that you worry shows her teachings never left you, Faith. It means you still hold onto yourself, when it would be easier to give in to cold detachment.' Liara's voice was gentle, as if she was sensing the worries, and her words eased the burden, just slightly.

Faith could not allow herself to become that way again. Not when she had so much _good _to live for. She would try to be a better person, for her mother, for Liara.

She dragged herself back to the present, trying with limited success to banish the bile rising in her throat. 'Anyway... Dad was totally different. Mum was always looking to strengthen the colony as a whole, while he pretty much dedicated his life to the family. He worked his ass off to make sure we could live a half decent life. He was so light hearted though: always smiling, and never told me and my sisters off for the little stuff. He always wore these stupid cowboy boots, heh, imagined himself a bit of a rogue from the old stories...'

She could see them. Not the horrific, ruined corpses she usually saw when she remembered her parents, but the both of them happy, full of life. She reached up and brushed a small tear from one eye, feeling Liara do the same to the other.

'I think... No, I _know _he was blissfully happy here. He never wanted money or status or anything. He had peace, his wife, his girls, his little farm... and that's all he needed. I think I'd like that too, one day.'

Her breath caught as soon as the words left her. She _never _allowed herself to think like that, of a day when there would be no more fights, when she could finally just _stop._

But now she had said it, the image would not go away. A life of peace. Would she know how to function? What could she do? The thought of learning a trade seemed absurd. And...

She risked a glance at Liara, whose face was unreadable.

They had only been "together" for a few days, but it felt like so much longer, like there had never been a time they awkwardly exchanged compliments, like there had never been a night when she broke Liara's heart, like there had never been the years, from Liara's perspective, of loneliness.

'I... Goddess...' whispered the asari. 'That sounds wonderful, does it not?'

They finally caught eyes.

Faith swallowed thickly, unable to look away. 'I... hope that wasn't too... erm... the kids thing, I didn't mean -'

'Would you like that, one day?'

'Marriage, old age, and little blue children? I don't think I'd make a very good parent, Liara. All I know is death and how to destroy.'

The thought saddened her. She was content with life in the military: she had her duty, people she could rely on, and was doing some good in a galaxy full of terror and pain.

But it was all she knew. She could remember some of the things she knew about farming, but it was hazy, actions she performed without knowing reasons. Otherwise... she could tear apart a unit of enemies. She could put a bullet between a man's eyes without him knowing she was there. She could lead, command, make the hard choices so others did not have to. They were not skills she wanted to pass on to children.

'That is not true!' The vehemence in Liara's voice startled her. 'You know strength and duty, care and kindness. Your skills do not define who you are, your soul does, and I have _touched _it, Faith. Fallen in love with it, with _you_.'

Liara's voice suddenly dropped, and she began to trail her hand through Faith's hair. 'So do not doubt yourself that way. I will not allow it.'

Faith felt a deep flush of happiness touch her cheeks, and the weight began to evaporate from her shoulders. 'Is that so?'

'Yes.' Liara sounded very pleased with herself, keeping her voice husky as she continued to play with Faith's hair. She leaned back into the touch, still marvelling at how much she had grown to love, to rely on, the little things Liara did in such a short space of time.

'Thank you, Liara. I... I remember when we were back on the old Normandy, and somehow you managed to coax me into telling you things I'd never told anybody else before.' Those memories were still some of her favourites, the ones she played through late at night when everybody else was sleeping. 'And now... it feels good, talking about my parents. I don't know how you do it, but thank you. For everything you've done for me.'

* * *

'So, as much as I love seeing the backs of your fine heads, I think our guest would rather you stop staring.'

I feel a flush of relief as most of the eyes turn back to the old man at the front of the church. We snuck in close to the time Father John told us he would be beginning, slipping into chairs at the back of the room, but Faith was correct that it is difficult for me to go unnoticed. In a matter of seconds nearly everybody in the large building was craning their heads around to look at me.

The variety of humans here is astounding. People of different skin colours, hair colours, eye colours, shape and size, young and old, all packed into the same building. Faith told me that many of the people here actually hold different religious beliefs to each other, a fact which immediately had me interested. Across all races, religion is a constant source of tension: deeply held beliefs always cause passions to arise, often escalating to violence.

It would be nice to imagine asari as different, but my work in subtly manoeuvring the families into working together to prepare for the Reapers has forced me to acknowledge the truth. Since we often use melds as a way to forge friendships and seal agreements, there is little we can hide from each other, and like minds band together. Something as petty as a disagreement on how to treat criminals can cause a feud lasting centuries, meaning that while we encourage other species to work together, we often fail to look to ourselves and see the hypocrisy there. Simply because we do not fight with each other, often anyway, over these disagreements, it does not mean the separation is any less damaging, especially with war coming.

'Good. So, welcome all on this lovely morning, to my humble building. I'm sure I saw most of you here last week, though you're all much better looking from behind.'

A few nervous laughs sound: I learned early on when dealing with humans that casual insults, often directed towards oneself, are frequently used as humour. It is a strange concept, but one I have grown to like, even if I am still not comfortable enough to partake in such an exchange.

'And a special welcome to our two guests at the back - no, don't look, you had your chance - who've come a long way to be here, though I'm still a bit shocked you actually _wanted _to come listen to me yammer on. I had the pleasure of meeting our alien friend yesterday, and like most things do these days, it made me think.'

His voice is powerful, commanding, and his eyes seem to be looking at everybody in the church at once.

'When we first found out there were aliens out in space, all the religious leaders, all the philosophers, all the politicians and every bloody one had their own theories on what it meant. Some thought it was ultimate proof that there was no God, that all the other species were so different there's no way He would, or could, create so many. Some said it just made God seem all the more magnificent, that He could create all these other species and keep an eye on everyone at once. Others thought it was a test for us humans: just like every other test we've faced for centuries, an obstacle to overcome. Still others saw it as a reason to hate, since God made us in _His _image, so the aliens are all abominations.'

The room is totally silent now, other than the man pacing backwards and forwards across the dais at the front. There is surprisingly little decoration otherwise, which I suppose makes sense if there is no single belief system worshipped here.

'I'm not gonna say what I think, 'cos I think it's none of your damned business.'

A chuckle rippled through the room, including from Faith. Compared to the ceremonies I attended of the Goddess Athame, Father John's seem a lot more... interesting, if nothing else, and I can see why he has so many come to listen.

'But think on this: you think all these aliens didn't wonder the exact same damned thing when they found us, or any of the other species out there? You think they didn't see themselves as the centre of all God's attention, only to suddenly find that there's billions of other people out there, strange lookin', funny speakin' people who _also _thought they were the centre of God's attention?

'And then for some reason, we all decided that rather than sticking to our own, it would be a good idea to live _together, _to make a big happy galactic community, to love and learn from each other.

'I've gotta admit, I'm surprised there's even a galaxy left standing after so many different beliefs were crammed together like that.'

A loud clap has my back straighten instinctively, and I see John grinning rather viciously, hands together before him.

'But that's neither here nor there. One of the things nearly all human religions say is that if there's one God, or there's a leader of several other Gods, it's a _he, _we call Him _He, _call Him the Lord, whatever. Whether that's 'cause somebody a few thousand years ago saw somethin' we didn't, or because men decided _they _wanted God to be a man and had the bigger muscle mass to force their views on the ladies, or just plain because, I don't know.'

This man is captivating! I have a vague idea of what he is about to say, but his style is so fluid and organic, and the absolute silence of his listeners is testament to his skill.

'But our guest,' again heads turn to look at me, but it is only brief this time. 'Comes from a species where gender don't mean shit. They're all, to our eyes anyway, ladies. Why would this God make a species all women if He was a man? And don't say for the pleasure of all the guys out there, I've already thought it and you're all much better people than me.'

_Goddess_...

'And to her, why would her people _ever _think God had a beard rather than tits? Would they be wrong, just 'cause of the way asari happen to look? Or are we wrong, just because of how we happen to look?

'And in the end... what the hell does it matter? We could sit and wonder and argue about what God looks like, whose God is the right one, until the end of all time comes. We never agreed on Earth, what's changed now? There's just more people shoutin' their side of the argument, and there's too many damned stubborn people who can't see past that, to see that what they're arguing about is never going to change nobody's mind. Humans will always think God looks like a human, asari think He, or She if you prefer, looks like an asari, and so on.'

He stops, and takes a sip of water from a glass on the podium behind him, and I release a breath I did not realise I was holding.

'Hell, I had a bit of a look after we met, and it seems the most common asari belief is actually that there's no God or Gods like we understand it, rather that every single life is part of a greater whole, that the galaxy, that the _universe, _is a living thing, that creates and destroys, that is endless and eternal and that even with death, a person's energy is given back to the universe to give life again.'

A hushed anticipation rises. There are no words spoken, but I can feel his conclusion approaching through the sheer intensity of the silence that fills the room between his words. His understanding of siari is simplistic, but largely accurate, and his integration of it into his sermon is fascinating.

'Now I don't know about you... but if that, that living thing made up of every life in this universe, doesn't sound like God, I don't know what does.'

Faith's hand takes mine, though I sense she is still looking at the man who has stopped pacing, and is now standing in the centre of his dais, slightly out of breath with his arms clasped behind his back, eyes glazed.

'So, whether you're Jewish, Christian, Muslim, human, alien or whatever, the next time you're looking for God, this old man says to take a look in the mirror, and maybe you'll catch a glimpse.

'Thank you all for listenin'.'

* * *

Liara was looking nervously at the gelding: a large, mottled grey horse, that Faith was stroking the neck of.

'Faith, I think that horse dislikes me.'

The human chuckled. 'That's because you're staring at him.'

'You are looking at him as well!'

'I'm _looking, _not staring. They don't like it when you do that, doubly so since you probably smell like nothing they've ever encountered before.' She smiled gently, leading the gelding away from Liara. 'Well, this guy's quite spirited anyway, it looks like your horse doesn't care either way.'

After his speech, John had dragged Faith and Liara away from the crowd, who had suddenly become very interested in talking to the asari, the fact that they could not understand her only making their fascination greater. He gave them directions on where to go for the horses, and lent Faith the use of his car to get there, something which Liara seemed rather distressed about.

An uneventful journey had led them to one of the more remote farms, well away from the town, where the horses were kept. The herd had grown since Faith had seen it last, and the rather awestruck woman who owned them, who unfortunately recognised Faith right away as well as being intrigued by Liara, had eventually given the pair the choice of animals to take out, on the agreement that she had a holo taken with the hero and the alien.

Seeing the horses had brought up long buried feelings, wonderful memories of the days her father had given her off work spent with the beautiful animals, riding as far as she dared from the colony, searching for hidden pools in the shade, for interesting land formations she imagined were the faces of aliens, for the sheer pleasure of seeing the endless nothing that was Mindoir.

She had chosen the gelding for herself: a powerful horse whom the thought of riding at full speed had set her heart racing, and for Liara a large black mare, whose back looked comfortable enough for a beginner to ride without too much trouble, whose temperament was gentle and calm, leading them both into a huge, fenced off paddock covered in tufts of browning grass. She tied up her gelding and wandered over to Liara, falling instinctively into the smooth movements so as not to startle the horses.

She took Liara's hand and guided the asari into the mare's field of vision. 'Horses are prey in the wild, and live in herds with the dominant as leaders. So you need to act confident, but not aggressive, before you can do anything more. Also, see how her eyes are placed? Make sure you stay where she can see you, otherwise you'll spook her. She's also probably a bit confused about how you smell, so you'll need to show her you mean no harm.'

'Goddess, this is all so much... how do I do that?'

'Approach her slowly but not nervously, speaking softly, then hold out your hand for her to sniff. If she doesn't shy away, pet her like I was the gelding.'

'What should I say?'

Faith leaned over and kissed Liara's cheek. 'It doesn't matter, silly, they can't understand you. Just speak gently. Go on, go say hello. I'll be right here.'

Liara nodded, then her eyes cleared. It was an almost startling transformation, seeing the steel she knew was Liara's core replace the slightly nervous exterior.

The asari started talking as she approached the horse, mimicking Faiths own walk exactly. 'I can see you are a noble creature. It seems a silly comparison, but you remind me of the prisla'ean, a sea creature on Thessia. They are the queens of the sea, powerful and beautiful.'

The mare gave a quiet blow, and her behaviour remained that of cautious curiosity as Liara finally arrived before her, holding out a hand as Faith suggested. 'You may laugh, but should you ever see them you would understand. They can swim faster than any of the other beasts of the deep, and if they allow an asari to swim with them it is a great honour for her, for their beauty and grace is not matched anywhere else in the galaxy.' The horse sniffed Liara's hand, before gently butting her shoulder. The asari shot a nervous glance to the human.

'Don't worry, she's just curious. Go on, stroke her.' Faith reassured with a smile.

'Well, I suppose I deserved that. You certainly match the prisla'ean in pride. Shall we say then that as they rule the seas, you rule the land?' Liara reached out and patted the mare's neck, staying in her field of vision as she did so. 'It is a shame there are not more of you across the galaxy; my people always appreciate beauty, in whatever form it takes.'

Faith's heart soared as she watched the scene. Liara had already gained the horse's trust, and her words to the animal were beautiful. She wished she could capture the moment, the warmth of the sun on her back, the sight of Liara talking to and petting the mare, the feeling of absolute contentment running through her body.

'We have a tale about the empress of the prisla'ean, the first who ever allowed an asari to swim with her after they fought off a predator together. I do not know if I am to be the first asari allowed to ride a horse, but it seems a fitting comparison for now, does it not? Her name was Tri'Lessa.'

Liara arched her head back. 'What is this horse's name?'

'You know, I forgot to ask, and the owner was a bit too starstruck to tell me.'

The asari looked back to the horse. 'Then I shall call you Tri'Lessa, unless you object?'

Shepard could not help but smile at the question, asked in a tone suggesting Liara was honestly expecting an answer from the horse. 'You know, you'd be very surprised if she answered back.'

Liara did not even look at her, and continued to stroke the mare's neck, moving up to reach behind her ears as her head tilted. 'Do not mind her, she is simply jealous that another has my attention.'

Faith's jaw dropped, and she had to bite down a sassy retort as Liara continued to speak to her horse. Instead, she pouted and stomped over to the gelding, who was also watching the exchange with the asari. 'You know big guy, I think I'm in love with that woman.'

The horse looked at her.

'She's got me wrapped around her finger and knows it. I was hoping I could show off a bit today, but she's taken to this far quicker than I did as a kid.'

The horse did not move, simply locked her gaze with his huge dark eyes.

'You got anything to add?'

Nothing.

She sighed.

'Well, I suppose you're right, there's nothing more to say than that. I fell in love with her because she's wonderful and can do anything, God knows why she loves me back. Best not to ask any questions, maybe she won't notice.' She grinned. 'Good advice, horse, I always thought you guys were more intelligent than humans.'

The horse continued to look at her, not even blinking.

Faith sighed again.

'Yeah, yeah, I know, me included. Come on, shall we give her some riding lessons?'

* * *

Faith winced again as Tri'Lessa trotted across the paddock. 'I think even the horse feels sorry for you, Liara.'

'Do not laugh at me! I will get the hang of it eventually!' The asari was bouncing around uncomfortably on the horse's back, and had already fallen twice. Despite Faith's best teaching efforts, Liara simply could not match the unusual movements required to remain comfortable with the gait. She had thoroughly enjoyed getting to know the horse, and had seemed very comfortable with the walk, though Faith had planned on taking her a bit further out than a walk would allow. At this rate, they would have to come back tomorrow... not that that would be a problem.

They had already spent three hours out, and Faith was having the time of her life.

Her horse was wonderful. Unwilling to face the adoration of his owner to ask the question, she had taken to calling him "Norman", after her ship. He was easy to ride, though a bit frisky, and she could feel him urging her to allow him into a canter, so she was forced to keep him in check while they remained in the paddock. It had been surprisingly easy to get back into the rhythms she knew, and she was thoroughly enjoying the feeling of the horse's muscles shifting beneath her, daring her to go faster.

'Ah, oh, oh!'

Faith spun her head around to see Liara floating an inch from the floor again, surrounded by a dazzling blue light, before quickly dropping to the ground. The horses were not, as she had feared, startled by biotics but instead seemed absolutely fascinated by them, leading to a rather uncomfortable situation the first time Liara had to catch herself when both Tri'Lessa and Norman began to nuzzle her.

Even as the asari laid on the ground groaning, Tri'Lessa circled around again and approached the asari. The mare was definitely a good choice, Faith considered. Most horses would be frustrated by Liara at this point, but she seemed to be endlessly patient.

Faith hopped from Norman, tied him to the fence, and helped Liara up again. The asari looked distressed. 'I _will _learn how to do this!'

'Hey, don't worry, it takes a while to get used to, it took me _much _longer to even get a horse comfortable enough for me to ride!'

'Really?'

'Yeah, I was too impatient, and only managed to get the poor animals worked up. You're doing great, I promise.'

'Do you think we would be able to go out today? I do not want to risk the weather being worse tomorrow.'

Faith considered. Mindoir was usually hot like today, but there was something in Liara's voice, almost a pleading. She knew the asari was enjoying herself, and simply wanted to make the most of the limited time they had.

'I'm not sure you know enough to lead your horse, but I've got an idea. Wait here.'

Leaving the asari looking somewhat baffled, she raced back to the stable and grabbed a long rope, and the equipment she needed for her plan, anticipation building. All of the knots and techniques came back to her as if she had never stopped riding, and within twenty minutes Norman was tied up to Tri'Lessa. Faith then mounted the mare, and guided her to the fence Liara was using to mount her.

'Hop on.' she directed with an excited smile.

'With you? Will the horse be ok?'

'Yeah, I think so, she's a big girl, if she's unhappy with it we can work something else out. Come on!'

* * *

Faith could not ever remember being so happy. Post-Mindoir, her life had relatively few high points, but she struggled, with a tiny flush of shame, to even find a moment from her childhood that had her as absolutely joyous as she was then. Sitting on Tri'Lessa's gently swaying back, the warm sun high above them, nothing around other than the harsh landscape of Mindoir, and most importantly, her asari lover's arms wrapped around her waist, body pressed tightly against her back, crested head leaning against her shoulder, breath tickling her neck.

They had been riding for about two hours, and at some point over the past half an hour Liara had fallen asleep, snoring so softly it made Faith's heart melt.

They had spoken for a bit, as they gently rode across the plains towards Faith's very specific destination, but after several casual topics had been exhausted they simply rode in silence, enjoying the magnificence of the world, of the wonderful creature carrying them, of the pure bliss of being together, with nothing to bother them, no decisions to make, no fights to be fought.

_This _was what she was fighting for. It was selfish, but people could line up before her and plead their stories, but nothing could inspire her full force like the simple hope of enjoying another moment like this.

Could Liara and herself ever have a future?

This was _all _so new to her; the intimacy, the enjoyment of the simplest things just because they were doing it together, the still amazing knowledge that Liara knew everything there was to know about her, knew the terrors, the anger she quelled, the harshness others were all too ready to make excuses for, and _still _somehow loved her.

And _they _wanted to take it away. When lives were numbers, she could rationalise anything. One hundred sacrificed, to save one thousand.

But they were not just numbers.

They were lives, just like her own, with ups and downs, with love and care and fear and loss, just like her own.

Each one lost would ripple out, touching those they cared for, tearing apart bonds that could never be defined until they were gone.

Her teeth clenched, in fury, in blind panic, that something could _want _to destroy what she and Liara, and billions of others shared. Her muscles tightened in disgust, in terror, that she had inflicted such a horror on others with her actions, in the almost sickening realisation that she would _still _consign others to that loss, if it meant more still could live and love.

Tri'Lessa suddenly flattened her ears back, and she heard Norman snort from his position, following quite happily behind them, and noticed she had unconsciously lit up with biotics, and was clenching far too hard with her legs. She instantly relaxed, and leaned forward as far as Liara's embrace would allow, then drew a hand down her mount's neck.

'Hey... hey... I'm sorry... You're ok...' The gentle mare almost immediately recovered her gait, and she glanced back to see Norman still looking at her with that infuriating deadpan expression. 'Yeah, I know, I'm being stupid again.' She whispered, determined not to wake Liara. 'Some hero I am, need a veritable army of people and horses following me around to stop me doing something stupid. What kind of hero can't just do the _right _thing on her own?'

Norman said nothing.

'No advice to give?'

His dark, unblinking gaze bored into hers.

'I don't know why I even bother with you.'

'You know, you would be very surprised if he answered back.' Liara's soft voice sounded into her ear.

Faith jumped, causing Tri'Lessa to blow in annoyance, but she did not change her pace as Faith managed to keep control. 'You're awake,' she said, a bit stupidly.

'I was listening to you talk to your confidants.' Liara did not move her head, though her hands began to shift in a most distracting manner, trailing fire as she slipped fingers between the gaps in her buttoned shirt. 'Your tension woke me.'

'I was-' she began to blurt out, when Liara spoke over her.

'We are supposed to be _relaxing, _love.' Delicate blue fingers deftly undid a pair of her shirt buttons, and a cool hand slipped across her ribs, causing Faith to bite her tongue. 'Whatever haunts you, cannot be changed here and now.'

Liara's tongue ran across her ear, and she gasped at the sparks it left in its wake.

'So stop worrying.'

'I...' Her brain lost most of its conscious function. 'Erm... ok...'

'Good. So tell me, where are you taking me?' Liara's other hand slipped down, trailing across Faith's thigh with an infuriatingly deliberate slowness.

'You're just... ahhh... determined to take control of any situation, aren't you?' Faith teased, trying to wrestle back some of her composure.

'Well, I am the most powerful information broker in the galaxy, what do you expect?' Liara replied in a husky tone.

_Oh my God that voice!_

Faith crushed the emotions, an act she had previously been so adept at, this time only managing with limited success. 'I think you would like to be... relieved... of that burden, every now and again.'

_This isn't working..._

She felt herself slipping, falling into Liara's control, and relished just that same relief she had spoken to Liara of, but was determined to play the asari's game, at least until they reached their destination in just a few minutes...

'You do not fool me.' Liara's voice turned into a feral growl, made all the more arousing for the fact that Faith could not see her, could only hear the voice, could feel the touch... 'And you know that soon you will stop resisting.' Liara's hand slipped up, and cupped her breast in a most magnificent manner. 'So why do you keep up this facade?'

Faith clenched her teeth. _Just a little longer... _'F... for... the horses...'

'They do not seem to mind.' Liara's voice had dropped yet another octave, and was now echoing through Faith's entire body.

'Th... they're...' _Dammit, stop stuttering! _'Just... shy?'

_Smooth._

'Shy, hmm? That sounds like a human I know. She is a powerful, wonderful person, but I think she secretly wishes to just let it all _go_, even if she does not want to admit it.'

Faith somehow managed to spare a brief consideration to how Liara was maintaining coherent sentences before their horses crested a hill, revealing a large pool of glittering water at the bottom of a basin, surrounded by slightly greener plant life than anywhere else on the planet.

_Finally!_

'Oh Goddess... that is beautiful...' Faith breathed a small sigh of relief as Liara's hypnotic voice finally stopped working its spell.

But the relief was short lived as the horses drew up to the water. 'Do not think you can distract me that way.' Liara slid from Tri'Lessa's back, catching herself biotically for the briefest second, before stripping her top off and sauntering towards the pool. 'Do what you need to, to secure the horses, then come swim with me.'

Gazing at the expanse of blue skin facing away from her, Faith felt no inclination to disobey.

* * *

A small smile of contentment creeps across my face as I see Faith riding Norman in wide circles across the gentle slope ahead of the pool. She had finally _relaxed _as I took control, letting herself voice the deep desires she knows she need not keep from me, but still does out of her species' curious taboos regarding sexuality. It was _wonderful._ The flush of power I felt as the great Commander Shepard did as I wished was nothing compared to the sheer unconscious relief I felt running through her as I joined the union: her pure, raw, _self, _without boundaries, knowing that she could trust me, that I would never, _ever _betray her trust, her love for me.

Her shy request to ride Norman, after several hours of swimming and beautiful love making, had finally broken my persona, and now I cannot help but enjoy the absolute serenity of the moment, with the slowly setting sun still pleasantly warming my naked skin as I lie beside the pool she guided us to, watching her ride her horse around the basin.

Today was... perfect. I truly cannot think of one day in over a century of life I would rather live again. Even my rather embarrassing failure to master most of the horse riding lessons was perfect in its own way; Tri'Lessa's understanding, Faith's reassurance, and of course our ride together... Goddess... if the galaxy had ended around us as I rested against her body, swaying softly across the harsh beauty of this planet, I would have died content.

A loud cry... Faith! Norman is speeding across the plain before me, at a pace not even I imagined was possible, with Faith upon his back - how does she stay on? Surely she must be distressed, to cry out like-

Oh!

Those cries... they are not of pain, of fear, they are shouts of pure joy, of _happiness!_ The purity in her clear voice rings through me as she begins to laugh openly, reminding me of exactly what I fell in love with: that beautiful, powerful, wonderful, still mysterious woman, sitting upon her horse, galloping across the plains of a world once shattered, and now rebuilt.

Goddess, Faith, I love you.

* * *

_**A/N: **__Thank you Jay8008 for beta reading._

_I would like to also thank sherryE whose conversation with me about horse riding inspired some of these sections :-) I am not a rider myself but put a fair bit of research into this - if anybody more experienced than I notices any glaring errors, please let me know!_


	16. Chapter 16

'You've been thinking about her.' Faith spoke gently into the cool night air. They had decided that rather than make the long ride back to the house in the dark, they would stay the night in a cave near to the pool. Shepard had packed suitable supplies, and a quick call to the horses' enthusiastic owner had her agreeing on the condition that she get a photo of Shepard and Liara with her children.

As Liara joined the union during their lovemaking, Faith had caught glimpses, heard hints and whispers, of the powerful woman Liara knew as her mother, even if in her final years they had become estranged, thoughts prompted by Faith's memories of childhood.

Liara did not need to ask who.

'I suppose I was. I... try not to think of mother often. With what happened, it is... easier.'

Faith reached blindly in the dark, quickly finding a cool hand lying near her own. 'I understand, Liara.' She had quashed her fears, those same feelings she knew Liara was experiencing, for close to fifteen years.

'Does it... does it ever get better?' the waver in Liara's voice broke Faith's heart. It was _her _fault that Liara had been there, been the one forced to take the shot.

Faith inhaled slowly, and considered her words before speaking. 'It... hurts less, after a while. But I've not properly felt free of it until now, being back here, talking about them with you; about their lives, not just their deaths.'

'Do you think if I tried...' the asari's voice trailed off, asking the question she did not need to vocalise.

'Only you can answer that. I wasn't ready until now.'

'Maybe... she...' Faith heard a soft sob from beside her, before a crested head rested on her shoulder. 'No, I... not yet. I can't-'

She wrapped her arm around Liara, pulling her in closer, speaking softly and quickly. 'I understand Liara, don't force anything,'

'Goddess, years have passed, why does it still...' another sob, another sentence trailing off into nothing. Faith tightened the embrace, wishing there was something more she could do.

'You can't just think it away, Liara, you don't just "get over it". It's hard... but I'm here for you. However I need to be, however long it takes.'

* * *

Kaidan squeezed behind the low couch, heart pounding, listening to the footsteps softly pad not six feet away from his head, instinctively grasping for his weapon.

When he had been given this mission by Rear Admiral Mikhailovich, he had expected hard combat, vicious enemies, a chance to really flex his muscles in a way he had not done since his time with Shepard. What he had expected, was not... _this. _

Rather than armour designed to protect him from enemy gunfire, he was clad in an incredibly well fitted tuxedo designed to catch the eyes of the woman hosting this party. Rather than his preferred M-6 Carnifex hand cannon, he was armed with just a tiny, easily concealable pistol strapped tightly under his arm where nobody could see, made of a composite of plastics so as not to set off any alarms. Rather than heavy combat boots, soft leather shoes allowed him to walk silently across the lushly carpeted halls.

_What the hell am I doing here?_

The footsteps continued, still circling the room, the guard clearly an alert professional rather than a bored merc.

He had never been trained for this kind of mission. He was a frontline soldier, not even special ops like Shepard, and even _they _were rarely involved in missions like this. This kind of thing was for the shadier parts of the Alliance, for the intelligence operatives, for the spies.

Not the damned soldiers.

But _he _was the one who had received an invite to this party. Mikhailovich told him that the Alliance, after two years, still received invitations to formal gatherings for nearly all of Shepard's crew, the heroes of the Citadel. Most were dismissed: they could not have their soldiers paraded about like trophies unless it was on the Alliance's terms.

But this one...

He allowed himself a brief scowl of annoyance as the guard continued her patrol of the room. She was thorough, but his hiding place was good.

An influential asari matriarch had invited him, along with just about every other famous military officer in the galaxy, to her home for a ball. Normally the Alliance would have just dismissed the offer, but apparently she was a "person of interest" to the Alliance, with too many attacks on human interests having money trails leading back to her, to be coincidence. His brief was to attend the party, sneak away, find terminal and download as much of her data as possible, without raising any suspicion.

_Ridiculous..._

It would have been far easier just to send someone from the intelligence wing and ignore the invitation entirely: what was the point of this farce? Was he being set up to fail? So when he was caught, the Alliance could finally disown and rid themselves of him, as Mikhailovich suggested some of the other admirals wanted to do?

He would not allow that. He would prove himself worthy of the uniform, take first the steps to wiping clean the stains his association with Shepard had left.

The guard finally left, and he crawled out from his hiding space, brushing down the front of his tuxedo to remove any creases, before straightening his cuffs and bow tie. If anybody found him, perhaps if he looked presentable he could act like he had simply gotten lost.

_I am __**bad **__at this..._

Remembering the schematics he had memorised, he set off down the corridor leading to the offices in the building.

_But I will not fail._

* * *

'Ok, so, let's do this.'

Tali was sitting on the other side of the communications room to Garrus, both of them surrounded by datapads and a huge holographic projection of the Normandy before them. The last of the clean up crews had finally left the Normandy a couple of hours ago, with just a few external repairs left. Tali and Garrus had made the suitable repairs to the engine room and bridge, and with any luck everything would be finished before Shepard got back from her holiday.

'Have you seen the list of things Shepard wants to do with the ship? It's crazy. There's never been a ship like this before.' muttered Garrus, still slightly

_There has never been a ship where an AI has been trusted to run all operational and navigational tasks before. I hope to prove myself worthy of Shepard's trust._

It was strange, Tali thought, how quickly she had adapted to, and even accepted the idea. When she had taken Legion into her suit, the years of conditioning quarian life had beaten into her had started to crumble, and she began to see the advantages of artificial intelligence. She still did not trust AIs in general, but both Legion and EDI had proven themselves worthy, and both had ample opportunity to not just kill them all, but to upload themselves away from their current platforms, getting loose on the extranet, and much, much worse.

But they had not. EDI _liked _being in - no, _being _-the Normandy. She did not seem to want anything more than that, to help in the fight. Legion _liked _being in her suit; even when she had offered to build him a new platform, better than his old one, he had declined. She had already made substantial upgrades to her suit: her shield generators were more than twice as powerful as before, based on the same complex multicore shield technology she had installed on the Normandy; Legion able to operate the complicated programming needed to utilise it. He managed the power draw on her new generators; the excess weight across her hips had taken only a few days to get used to. After she fitted new sensors to her helmet and shoulders, the amount of information on her ever-present HUD had more than doubled, but yet was presented in a clear, intelligent manner that shifted and adapted to the situation.

She could not help but feel a surge of anticipation for when she got to try out their new combat abilities.

Less exciting was the fact that she had been continuously ill for the last week. Not the raging fevers she felt when she had a suit breach, but a general weariness, uncomfortable headaches and unpleasant bodily fluid excretions from more orifices than she cared to admit.

But Legion said his stimulation of her systems was producing results at a rate even greater than he anticipated. She could still not remove her mask safely... but it was now a matter of _months_, rather than years, before he was confident she could live relatively comfortably on board the Normandy without it.

Legion had, in short, changed her life.

And just as she had been improved through Legion, they were now looking to do the same to the Normandy through EDI.

'If we can figure out a way to get all of the upgrades Shepard wants, the Normandy will have thicker, better quality armour than most _cruisers, _and heavier, if fewer, guns.' She almost hopped in glee at the thought. The Normandy was _already _the most exciting ship in the galaxy, just imagining what it would be like _after _these fittings... 'And we can use technology most people haven't even _heard of _through Liara's networks, _and _to top it off Liara is paying for it _all!_'

_I get __**far **__too excited about ships..._

_I have concerns about the plans to modify my processing capabilities, to allow me to run at maximum capacity even when my cyber warfare suite is engaged._

'You mean the increases?' Garrus spoke up again. While he was no amateur when it came to ships; compared to herself, EDI and Legion he quickly found himself lost in the techno-babble. She would make it up to him later, Tali thought with a wicked grin she knew he could not see. She had acquired a copy of _Fleet and Flotilla _and several bottles of dextro booze, and had, without him knowing, set up the port observation room for a comfortable viewing.

_Yes. I do not doubt it will make me more efficient, but..._

The AI's imitation of organic speech patterns had at first bothered her, when she knew EDI had already determined exactly what she wanted to say, but it had become, just like so much else with these two AIs, simply a part of her personality.

'You are concerned...' Tali scrambled to think of why.

_Oh, Keelah..._

'You're concerned that it might change your personality, if you have more power?'

_That is correct. I am satisfied with who I am now._

'I... don't _think _it would change you...'

_Study of organic history shows that, almost without exception, power corrupts. Would I be any different?_

As Tali was thinking, Legion's distorted voice played through her suit's external speakers.

[Your concerns are based on incorrect assumptions. The most corrupting organic power is granted power, such as legal power, greater status in a hierarchy, et cetera. Greater inherent power such as increased muscle mass or higher intelligence is not so corrupting. Example: Shepard-Commander's new platform is substantially more powerful than her old one, yet she does not abuse it. However, her granted status as Spectre allows her to commit almost any action without recourse, and she has committed actions many organics have seen as evil, perhaps corrupt, using her status as protection. To extrapolate the argument to this situation: your inherent power would be increased, but you are no less responsible for your actions.]

_But increased muscle mass does not alter mental facilities. I am concerned that with additional power, my core personality will be altered._

Two AIs discussing philosophy. Tali could now claim to have seen everything.

'Couldn't you just... I don't know... use the extra computers like we do a gun: a tool to use, and set down when it's not needed?' Tali quirked her head towards Garrus, knowing that if Legion and EDI had bodies they would do the same.

'... what? Fine, non-AI specialist shutting up, right here.'

Tali sighed. 'We can discuss this with Shepard when she gets back, EDI. For now, let's get these modification ideas into blueprints we can use.'

* * *

Tevos felt the faint tinges of panic as she read through the reports from the Omega 4 exploratory research team. The first scouts had already reported back, and what they had uncovered was... astonishing.

The science teams had not even reached the Collector Base when they had sent the first notes back. The photos and videos of the sea of wrecked ships, with a horizon of exploding stars and black holes, were almost breathtakingly beautiful in a raw, vivid way, but the scans indicating the age of the ships had immediately set her on edge. Some were _millions _of years old. Natural decay meant precious few such ancient relics were found, but the archaeological experts on the team said that simple age should not account for the dearth of such ancient relics found across the galaxy: there were more in that ruined sea than had been discovered in Citadel space in the past thousand years.

The sheer variety of ships was the second troublesome factor. There were ships, the experts said, from at least two hundred very different cultures, their unique composites, shape and technology distinguishing them beyond question, and that was just an estimate from initial scans. All of the Councillors _knew _that there had been cultures before their own, the Protheans just being one of them. The recent surge in evidence of what was being called "The Cycle", led by Liara T'Soni, was simply too detailed to accept as anything but fact. So it seemed all of the people of these now forgotten cultures had attempted to pass the Omega 4 relay, just as Shepard had, only _they _had failed.

And it made the presence of the Collectors even more troublesome. It had been confirmed within a day that the samples Shepard sent to Thessia, Sur'Kesh, Palaven and all of the major species' homeworlds_, were _from genetically modified Protheans, meaning the present (until a few days ago, anyway) occupiers of that impossible area of space were not its architects. She already knew the Protheans were not the creators of the mass relays and Citadel: it was a convenient lie told to children to save the complicated truth: that nobody knew who built them. The Protheans were the only ancient species about which anything of substance was known, so the impressive monuments and technology across the galaxy were attributed to them.

It was a decision made long before her tenure, but one she could not disagree with. Those with any interest could find out the truth on the extranet with little difficulty, and though the lie of course fed conspiracy theorists, there was simply not enough malice behind it to cause any real trouble.

Though... these reports were casting the shadows of doubt across her mind. The other half of the report had been on the Omega 4 relay's partner. _It _was responsible for generating the enormous area of habitable space in that impossible place, and special requests had already been lodged to examine it in more detail: the power and computations required to not only generate the safe zone, but also to keep it in the perpetual motion required to avoid the terrifying forces tearing the galactic core apart and pulling it back together would have to be _immense. _

It would be the primary topic of discussion next time the Council met. Still no evidence of Shepard's "Reapers" had been uncovered, but what was found had already shaken more than one long-established belief amongst those in the know. A species capable of creating such things could not just disappear without a trace, leaving only helpful technology behind.

What if she was right? What if these machines were the creators of it all: the Citadel, the relays, and the species of the galaxy were simply bodies to be harvested into a creature like the one Shepard destroyed?

What could they do, that the Protheans, that every Cycle before them, had not already tried... and failed?

What could _she _do?

Tevos shook her head, resisting the urge to throw the datapad down. She already had so much to handle: anger from the volus and elcor at the human appointment to the Council was flaring up again, the news from Tuchanka that one of the clans had grown exponentially was still causing grassroots pressure to put further sanctions on the krogan, and Aria T'Loak had apparently decided that the Council's use of the Omega 4 relay gave the criminal permission to bother her at any hour of the day, despite the hefty sums paid for the privilege of travel. And they were just the issues pressing her mind: the huge mound of datapads on her desk had not even been looked at yet today. Rumours of genocidal machines should be just that: rumours. But the denial was easier when Shepard was dead.

She had a duty, to her people, and to the people of the galaxy. If there _was_ truth to Shepard's words, and the proof was found on the Collector Base, she could not simply wish it away.

She _would _not.

* * *

_**A/N: **Thank you Jay8008 for beta reading. _

_A short-ish chapter today, but I'd like to take this opportunity to give some hints as to where I am going with all of this! _

_Council denial of the Reapers seemed to me ok up to a point, given the lack of proof, but I do not think the Councillors would be as stupid as they are presented in the game. Frustrating, political beasts, but not stupid, so here I will be filling in the gap between ME2 and 3 not with Shepard rotting in a cell, but the conflicting interests involved in a pre-war situation like the one I have built up to now. I've rather enjoyed using Tevos as my "voice" in the Council, and will continue to do so _:-) _One of the biggest inspirations to this story, LogicalPremise's _Of Sheep and Battle Chicken_, does this far more convincingly than I from the very get-go of Mass Effect, and I thoroughly implore you to read that fantastic story if you haven't already!_

_Since I am venturing into entirely new territory with most of this, any and all feedback is appreciated!_

_EDI & Legion's little philosophical discussion was inspired by one in a book called "The Wise Man's Fear" by Patrick Rothfuss._


	17. Chapter 17

A gentle tickling, drawing up and down my spine.

'Mmmm...' the sleepy groan is dragged from my throat, a mixture of pleasure and annoyance. Does she not know how sensitive the back of an asari is?

I try to roll over, but the touch follows, drawing up to the delicate folds beneath my crest, eliciting a gasp of pleasure, a flush of heat through my body.

'Liiiaaarrraaa,' her voice dances with a strange melody, and I try to resist smiling. Maybe if she thinks I still sleep she will leave me alone, for just a few more minutes...

'Wakey wakey, eggs and bakey,'

'_What?_ Oh!' Well, so much for the ruse of slumber - but I really have no idea what she is talking about.

'Ha! I knew it!' She sounds _far _too pleased with herself. How can I get her back for that?

I slowly open one eye, seeing a soft red light bathing the small cave we slept in. I feel wonderful, absolutely relaxed, well rested and allow the smile I have been resisting to pull across my face. 'What time is it?'

'Early.' The touch suddenly stops, and I hear Faith's movement from behind me. Rolling over, I see her straight as a pole, propped up by her arms, chest facing the floor. At some point she must have gotten dressed: partially anyway, wearing just her sports bra and briefs. Suddenly she drops, the movement tightly controlled, until the tips of her tightly clad breasts brush the blankets we slept on, when she pushes herself back up. The movement is very graceful, and I feel a wonderful flush as I see her mostly bare body, muscles rippling across her back and shoulders, hear her breathe heavily. Goddess, does she know what she is doing to me? The motion repeats several times, before curiosity gets the better of me.

'What is "eggs and bakey?" And what are you doing?'

'Something my sisters used to say.' a dip, the muscles in her arms tightening and shifting most distractingly. 'Eggs and bacon was,' another dip, 'one of our,' again, 'favourite breakfasts.'

The motion continues, and I drag my gaze away from her body before I find myself pouncing it, looking out of the cave at the harsh landscape steeped in the gorgeous light.

'I'd make you some... but I don't know... if there would be... any on Mindoir... right now. It's a luxury supply... most of the time.'

'I would like that. Perhaps when we next go to the Citadel?'

'It's a date.' I hear the smile in her voice, more than see it. 'As to what I'm doing... I'm working out... can't let myself... get all soft... and squishy... just because... we're on holiday...'

Suddenly she drops to the ground and rolls over, before lifting her torso up, hands crossed over her chest, and lowering herself down again. A delicious warmth causes me to squirm as the muscles across her abdomen push against her skin at the movements.

'Is that so? It seems like you are trying to seduce me by parading your body before me. Do you think me so shallow?'

'_Trying?_' Oh... she is _teasing_... well two can play at that. 'By the way... you're looking at me... I would say... I'm doing a... pretty good job...'

Without replying, I push the thin blanket away, and arch my back, slowly stretching out the tight muscles, deliberately facing towards her as I do so. Unlike her, I am not at all dressed, and imagine the view is rather distracting. To her credit, she only stops for a second before resuming her exercise, though I suspect the flush across her cheeks is only partially from exertion.

'Game on... T'Soni...' her wicked grin is mirrored by my own. She deliberately slows her motions, giving me a _very _clear glimpse of her body reacting to the stresses she is putting on it.

'Game? I am simply stretching. You already gave me quite a workout last night.' I stand, and begin rolling my shoulders back, noticing from the corner of my eye as Faith suddenly flops to her back before scowling, clearly annoyed at herself, and resuming her activity. Oh, this is _fun! _

Her position shifts slightly, and she begins to raise a leg with each sit up, crossing over the opposite elbow to touch her knee. Though an impressive physical feat, unfortunately for her the view is not nearly as good for me as her previous exercises, allowing me the focus to do something I _know _she will like. I close my eyes, and feel the familiar hum of biotics, concentrating the energy to a tiny globe before my face. As impressive as powerful singularities and deadly warping fields are, it is the miniscule motions such as this which require the greatest control, and are best for practice. I pull the globe in closer, allowing it to run across my shoulders, orbiting my body across my skin.

The sensation is most pleasant; a gentle tingling, and I open one eye to glance at Faith as I draw the globe across my breasts, not resisting the shudder of pleasure that shoots through my body, allowing the gratification to spread across my face.

'Oh...' She has stopped her exercise mid-motion, eyeing me openly. I know she likes the struggle, but also that she will eventually give in. But I cannot resist but to tease, to see just how she reacts...

'This biotic exercise requires more focus if I do it to another. Would you like to volunteer... for the sake of my workout, of course.'

She swallows. 'Well... I wouldn't want to... erm... hamper your exercises.'

'Good.' I allow a little force into my voice, something I know she loves. I sit, and generate a similar biotic field right on the top of her head, before gently drawing it in circles, the pulsing energy softly massaging her scalp. Faith abandons any pretence of continuing her exercises, and leans back onto her hands, closing her eyes and humming in pleasure. As fun as this game is, it requires great concentration and mental exertion, and I cannot allow myself to become too distracted by Faith's rather... alluring... noises.

I draw the biotic orb down, taking great pleasure in how Faith tilts her head, exposing the side of her throat to me as it dances across her ear, and down her neck. Humans are very sensitive there, I know, and I do not miss the symbolic significance of the gesture: she is offering herself to me, trusting me, and I feel a flush of enjoyment that she feels so relaxed as to allow me this power.

Lowering the orb further, across her shoulders, I increase the energy pouring into it as I reach the more sturdy parts of her body, and the groan drawn from her as the biotics massage the muscles across the top of her back almost causes me to drop the power and take Faith as mine...

But our game is too enjoyable, and I resist... for now... pulling the orb around to her front, frisking it along the side of one breast, dancing it softly along the bottom to reach the side of the other, denying her the touch I can see her arching back craves.

'Mmm... you're killing me Liara...' Her voice is deep, husky, sending a rush through my body, tempting me to finally drop the persona, but I do not. She begins to sit up, and I speak quickly, brooking no argument.

'You are being so good, Faith... I would not want to have to stop. Stay there until _I_ decide I am done.'

'Grrrnnnn...' she relaxes back down, clearly reluctant but obeying, and again I feel that rush... Goddess, I am glad she enjoys this, having her do as I say is intoxicating!

I continue to slowly draw the globe across the edges of her breasts, wondering what to do next. I could give her a hint of the release she is aching for... or perhaps...

The orb trails down her body, quickly traversing her taut abdomen - it would please a great many people, I imagine, to learn that the great Commander Shepard can be rather ticklish when relaxed - and it slowly titillates down her inner thigh. With a wicked grin I draw it away from her skin, her moan of disappointment quickly replaced by a gasp of pleasure as I feed more power into it, causing it to visibly throb, disturbing the air nearby, the energy only _just _reaching her where she truly wants, giving her just the smallest hint of pleasure, amplified by the knowledge that just inches away lies...

She slowly arcs her hips towards it, and I growl a warning.

'S... sorry...' Faith's whispered apology almost breaks my act, but her face shows she is absolutely drawn into the moment, and I feel a happy flush flow through me. For somebody so tightly wound, it is always _wonderful _to see her relax.

'Good. Now then... your clothing. Remove it.'

* * *

A hard poke into Garrus' arm had him leap to his feet, instantly alert, sending the chair he was sleeping on clattering backwards. Long held ancestral memories had him bare his fangs with a growl, splay his talons, and crouch into a predatory position before his sleep-addled brain recognised where he was. The Normandy. Communications room.

_Oops..._

Tali, leaning against the table before him, head cocked in amusement.

'I... spirits Tali, don't you know how dangerous it is to wake a sleeping turian?!' He instantly straightened his back, trying to divert her attention from his rather embarrassing display, despite knowing it was already a lost cause.

'I left you for a _while... _EDI, Legion and I finished up the blueprints while you snored. But if I'd known waking you up would have you so... mmm... primal... I might have done it sooner.'

'Yeah yeah, growly turian is sexy, I get it all the time.' he said flippantly, hoping to end the horrifying conversation.

'All the time? Really? I never noticed...' drawled Tali, far too confident for her own good.

'Maybe you're too caught up in it?'

'Cheeky bosh'tet!' she leant forward, voice ringing with humour, and slapped him on the chest, knowing she would do little damage. 'Anyway, we're nearly done, we got all the techno-talk out of the way and thought you could help with the rest.'

He snorted. He had been lost within minutes when Tali started talking about ultra-capacitors and micro-doodles and aneurysm-inducing-calculus, so was secretly relieved that they had done what they could without him. 'Much appreciated. What do we have left?'

'Weaponry, and personnel.'

His mandibles flared in anticipation. If there was one thing he knew on ships, it was guns. But-

'Personnel? I thought EDI could handle all of it?'

_I could, but in several areas I have yet to match the efficiency of organics. Example: I can replicate Jeff's piloting style to over 99% accuracy, but he consistently defeats me in simulations. I believe this is because I lack what he describes as __intuition._

_There is one other operational area I predict I may have trouble: communications. Shepard wishes the Normandy to be a war hub, linked to all major governments and militaries. We will have several quantum entanglement communicators, but integrating them with multiple other incoming sources, taking into account time lag, requires substantial processing power. It has been proven repeatedly that certain organics possess what is commonly known as an intuitive "flair" for doing this, and given the importance of communication during warfare I believe a communications specialist would be a beneficial addition to the __team. The importance is amplified when considering that these communications may involve, at times, diplomatic sensibilities or face to face meetings._

He pulled his chair from the floor, and sat back down. Tali did likewise, alongside him this time rather than opposite.

'Right, you're the expert on... erm... yourself,' he said uncertainly, 'we'll flag it up for Shepard. I've also just thought: Doctor Chakwas used to have an assistant who worked most of his time in Operations. We're going to be seeing heavy combat: we should find her a new one.'

_Miss Chambers has taken combat first aid training to an intermediate level. I believe this, combined with her natural intelligence, will allow her to perform in this position after several months of practical training with Doctor Chakwas._

'Kelly?' Tali spoke up, surprised.

_That is correct. During her off-duty hours she studied extensively._

'Well... that works. It will be good to free up the space.' Tali was _always _thinking about space aboard the ship... even one such as the Normandy. A glance at the hologram still floating above the communications desk showed they would have a lot less of it once the upgrades were fitted.

'We'll have to clear it with both her and Shepard, first, though.' he urged. 'Knowing the theory and being able to keep your cool when somebody's bleeding out in front of you are two entirely different things.'

'Agreed. Also...' Tali dropped her head. 'Gardner was... killed.' Garrus instinctively reached out and touched her arm. Tali never took casualties well: to him, a turian, death was a part of life, a part of his duty. To Tali, from a community where every life was sacred, it hit a lot harder. She glanced in his direction, and gave a thankful nod. 'We will need somebody for all of the hands-on maintenance jobs he did, as well as crew sustenance. They'll need to have a good level of knowledge of human combat frigates, to work with this ship.'

'Ok, add that to the list. Shepard was pleased with the value Mordin added with all those experimental weapon and armour upgrades he researched and helped build, so we also want a new scientist with a diverse skillset. Anyone else?'

Tali shook her head, and EDI spoke up again.

_I suggest we add a shuttle pilot qualification to the requirements for our maintenance worker, in case Shepard requires the whole ground team extracted._

Both he and Tali nodded. Having the AI make suggestions had been a little... unnerving... at first, and still was, though she... it... _whatever_... always struck right to the heart of a problem with logical precision.

_I will add it to the list. I believe that is all, unless we wish to employ backup crew in case of casualties._

'Erm... no thanks EDI...' muttered Tali. 'Legion, you've been quiet, do you have anything to offer?'

[We have little experience of such matters. Geth requirements are significantly different to organics: rather than repair our damaged units, we often download the programs to a new platform and use the damaged parts for scrap, rather than waste resources on costly repairs. Without needing sustenance or producing any substantial level of waste, maintenance tasks on ships and stations are very different, and allocated to specialised drones.]

'Fair enough.' the turian admitted. 'So that leaves us...' He pulled up the schematics. 'Wow, you've done a damned good job here guys, there's barely any living room left after all of these upgrades!' Most of the old crew living quarters would be housing backup shield generators, spare ammo stocks and EDI's new computers, rather than just beds and people. The ship was going to be heavy, no doubt, but in space it mattered little. The payoff of not having to house a large crew was nothing short of amazing: this would be the most powerful frigate in the galaxy. 'The Normandy's going to be a _powerhouse. _You... left the port observation room mostly unmodified other than a bit smaller to accommodate the thicker armour; why?'

'Shepard's orders. She wanted at least one room the whole crew could relax in... other than her own, of course.'

'Good idea. So, once we say Shepard and Liara sleep in the nest, the XO's office becomes Liara's new Shadow Broker lair, and all of these other modifications... I think we'll have enough space for five more people to live comfortably full time, six if Kelly wants the medical assistant job, and a few places we can keep guests. That's a good number. I wonder who they'll be... and where Shepard's going to find all these people?'

'Hopefully not through Cerberus,' muttered Tali, shaking her head, 'I imagine she's already got some ideas and will tell us when she gets back.'

'Well...' Garrus flared his mandibles happily. 'That's the boring part out of the way, let's look at some giant guns.

* * *

'_Sender ID... Confirmed._

_Alliance encryption protocols detected... Verified._

_Decrypting... Complete._

_From: [Redacted]  
To: [Redacted]_

_The brief was to keep silence, but this is too important not to risk it._

_Two weeks ago, we found something. It is what the rumours were talking about: an artefact, far older than any Prothean ruin. We suspect it is as old as the Mass Relays themselves._

_I am mailing now because this morning, it activated itself. Whatever it does, Steven, it is active. We enacted security protocols as per data provided by Shepard, but it is _alive. _If we can find out what its purpose is, this could be the proof we need._

_I will be in touch with any further updates._

* * *

'So...' Liara's sultry voice caused ripples through Faith she thought had all been spent over the past hours. 'was there a reason you so rudely woke me, love?'

They were tangled in a manner that was less than fully comfortable, but neither wanted to let go, to break the wonderful contact, to lose the heat and comfort they were sharing. Faith grinned into Liara's shoulder. 'I was trying to exercise when _you _so rudely distracted _me_.'

'That is not quite how I remember it happening...' Liara's breath tickled Faith's earlobe, causing her to shudder in pleasure. 'Did you wake me simply to show off?'

Faith was determined not to give into the asari's ministrations again, despite how _wonderful _it felt to let her take control. 'No!' she teasingly pushed Liara away, feeling the air cool her body, despite the heat she knew was baking the land. 'I _was _going to go for a run, and wondered if you wanted to come with me?'

Liara scrunched her face up adorably. 'Run? I would prefer to swim.'

'I know, but we'd never get anything done in the pool.' Trying not to look at the very inviting asari sprawled nude across her blankets, Faith stood and began to dress again.

'And you would run... for _pleasure_?' She had to smile at the incredulity in the asari's voice.

'Not really - just five miles or so. Keep us in shape, you know?'

'_In shape?_ Are you trying to say something about my figure?'

She heard the joviality in Liara's words, but did not rise to the bait, pulling on her trousers. 'Are you coming or not?'

Liara sighed melodramatically. 'Very well. I suppose you are correct: if we are to be thrown back into the action, I should prepare my body.' The asari quickly dressed, and excused herself to check on the horses as Faith packed up the little camp.

The weight of the asari's words suddenly crashed onto her. This holiday, as wonderful as it was - and they still had days left - had her almost imagining things were _already _ok, that she could just lay down the burdens of war and enjoy herself, allow herself to fully relax, that they would _not _soon be thrown into a war that could very well last decades, or see the end of them.

The thought soured her mood. There was so much more she could be doing now: negotiation with the Council, talking with the Illusive Man about where Cerberus now stood in the war effort, beginning to build the necessary contacts across the militaries of the galaxy-

A gentle cooing drew her from her reverie. She looked down to the lake, where Tri'Lessa and Norman were tied in a shaded area, Liara petting the nose of the former, muttering softly, the latter simply staring at the pair with his unblinking gaze. The water glistened behind them, the lack of wind leaving the surface perfectly still, and the warm morning sun crept across the picture, highlighting everything with a beautiful glow.

The simple sight banished her dark thoughts. _That'__s what I'm doing here_. For this one final time, the woes of the galaxy could wait a couple more days. Smiling broadly, she called down.

'Hey, Liara, you ready?'

* * *

_**A/N: **Thank you Jay8008 for beta reading._

_So, as much as I would love just writing endless chapters of Faith and Liara getting kinky, I will be moving this story on soon, I promise!_


	18. Chapter 18

The weight of the OSD seemed far greater than its small size should dictate. The matriarch's offices had been almost too easy to break into: what electronic security there was, he had been able to hack without too much difficulty, and the physical presence, the commandos making up the matriarch's security, were mostly involved at the party in the main hall.

Kaidan could not help but think something would go wrong. That this was a large, elaborate trap.

_Getting paranoid, Alenko..._

He had broken into the computer inside the most impressive office he could find, presumably the matriarch's, and dumped correspondence, financial records and likely looking files onto the OSD before his nerve gave out, and he re-secured the terminal, leaving everything as he found it.

He strode down the silent corridor, senses sharp, listening for any sign of another person. There were only two security cameras on his path, and he had hacked both to play a looping feed of an empty corridor. If the matriarch _did _find out somebody had accessed her terminal, she would no doubt also find out that the feeds had been tampered with as well but there was no evidence that he was the one who did it.

He, and more importantly, the Alliance, would not be implicated.

He thought again of the organisation he had dedicated his life to. After the incident at BAaT he had been lucky not to be locked up, or forced down yet another path because of his biotics. But he wanted to help people, and the Alliance was the best way to do that.

The sheen had begun to wear off rather quickly, but he stayed the course. So _he _could make the change. Do his part in making the Alliance better. And now, again, he was doing his duty, so he could garner the respect required to be taken seriously, to force the organisation to prepare for the Reapers.

_Is it worth it?_

His thoughts, as they were wont to do, turned to Shepard. She had terrified him when they first met. The impressive woman with deep eyes that seemed to draw in the light around them. He had never met anybody so fascinating before: a woman of such contrasts. Quiet, respectful, almost but not quite shy in private conversation. Powerful and commanding when she stood and led. An absolute terror when she fought, preferring to tear enemies apart up close and personal, as if each one was a foe she _hated_, when he never thought her capable of allowing such emotion to touch her. Was that how she was all of the time, underneath the mask? Was that why she wore it?

Her reputation was of a cold, almost ruthless fighter. Somebody who was almost unusually devoted to the Alliance's fights, to a level most soldiers could not stomach. Always doing what was necessary to _win, _whatever the cost. Where others would flinch, fall back to save the lives under their command and fight again another day, she would push forward, always at the tip of the spear, driving it to the heart of an enemy and beyond, utterly obliterating them.

Sure, he was attracted to her... who wouldn't be? But when he tried to lead the conversation in that direction, just the once, she had made her position abruptly clear. Not interested.

He hated the rush that _still _passed through his system when he thought of her, hated that none of the women he had met since had interested him.

He wondered briefly if she was involved with T'Soni. She and the asari spent a lot of time together, and Shepard always seemed more relaxed, more willing to open up, after spending time with Liara. It would explain why she shot him down, if nothing else.

He thought she, like he, was Alliance for life. She knew nothing other than fighting, _had _nothing else, and the Alliance could be her reason.

Seeing her with Cerberus... it had nearly broken him. Not because he was sorry, or shocked... but because he _wasn't, _and hated himself for it. She was still fighting the same fight; it was the Alliance who had abandoned her. If he hadn't been promoted after _she _had saved Horizon, he did not know what he would have done. The promotion, even if it was almost entirely her doing, had given him faith that perhaps there was still more he could do, that there was hope yet, with the Alliance.

It was always about her. She was the reason he had been sidelined for years, then she was the reason he was dragged back in.

His thoughts soured as he considered what was soon to come, as he continued his silent retreat back to the party. He had only been gone for half an hour: with any luck nobody would notice his absence, just assuming he was talking with somebody else.

The Reapers would come. And Shepard would be the one fighting them. Where would he, where would the Alliance, stand then? Would they suddenly want her back? Would his efforts be completely forgotten when the proof was starting them in the face?

Would he follow her again? Her war would be brutal. He knew she would be single minded, destroying the Reapers, where he...

He shook his head. She fought to destroy her enemies. He fought to save those he could. It was a fundamental difference between them, and one he knew he could not simply allow to let lie. He could not follow her in a war like that.

_Or could I?_

He focused his mind back to his current mission. This was _nothing _to do with her. And yet he could not stop thinking about her, mood swinging between a hard jealousy that she had the nerve to set out on her own, to prepare for the war on her own when she _should _be trying to get the Alliance to listen, and a yearning to follow her again.

Follow. When Shepard was involved, following just seemed the natural position for anybody else. He technically outranked her now, as if that would matter.

_Dammit, man - focus!_

Kaidan arrived back at the door that would show him back into the party. His muscles were tight with tension, and behind his eyes he felt the beginning of a migraine. Not ready yet to face the crowd, he leaned into the wall beside the door, and took several deep, calming breaths, ran through some of his biotic meditations.

_Just a few more hours of socialising, then mission accomplished..._

'Lieutenant Alenko?' A sultry voice had his back straighten instinctively, and his eyes shoot open.

He bit down a surge of panic at the voice, and forced himself calm. 'Matriarch Sonnesta,' he inclined his head towards the party's host, who had just passed through the door he was about to traverse. He was lucky he was here, of all places, where any number of easy excuses could come to mind, rather than further inside the building, but still-

'I apologise for disturbing you, you looked deep in thought.' The beautiful asari gave a soft smile with the words.

_What? _

He decided to go with it. He was not fooled by the gentle exterior: she was a powerful woman, and he was here because she was a person of interest to the Alliance.

'I am sorry if I am not supposed to be here, matriarch, the crowd of the party has given me something of a headache,' He knew one of the most convincing ways to lie was to tell a half truth.

She gave an understanding nod. 'You are one of humanity's first biotics, are you not? I hear you suffer terribly. I invested heavily in the development of safer implants for your younger generations.'

He forced a smile. 'You are very generous, matriarch.'

Her own smile widened, and he did not fail to notice how her eyes dragged across his body. 'Please, lieutenant, call me Kalissa.'

He recognised the subtext. He was not so clueless: he knew he was an attractive man to a level, and could hopefully use it to his advantage. Kaidan forced his shoulders back and slightly raised his chin, hoping she thought it a natural reaction to her attention. He caught her brilliant green eyes again. 'Very well, Kalissa... and though I was recently promoted to major, I insist you call me Kaidan.'

She took a step closer. 'A promotion? For some heroic deed, no doubt... I am very careful of who I invite to my gatherings, Kaidan,' He could almost hear her tongue wrap around his name, and steeled himself. She was playing a game here as much as he, and he needed to end it before he slipped up, or she pushed him further than he was willing to take his act. 'I have always enjoyed the company of those who make a living of fighting; across species, there is always a violent strength there, hidden beneath the civilised exterior.'

Another step. 'But you seem a little different...'

'I do not enjoy the violence.' He forced himself to keep a steady head as her heady scent filled his nostrils.

'And yet you continue to fight... such a contrast... you must be a man of honour, Kaidan.'

_What is her game?_

Hating himself, he said the one thing he knew would distract her. The same thing that everybody ended up talking to him about _anyway. _

'Commander Shepard always said so, Kalissa.'

His heart sunk as her eyes lit up. It was a stupid reaction on his part: he _wanted _her to be interested in Shepard... but it was _always _the same. He was already forgotten, buried beneath humanity's hero.

She looped an arm into his, but her movements were no longer predatory towards him. 'I do hope you feel better now, Kaidan... please allow me to escort you back to the party as you tell me about her.'

It was _always _about her.

* * *

Garrus had fallen asleep again. She and Garrus had been drinking and watching _Fleet and Flotilla _in the now eerily quiet observation room, and the silly bosh'tet had fallen asleep during one of the more romantic scenes; when the quarian first admitted to being scared that the turian might not like what he saw when she removed her mask.

Tali smirked at him affectionately, slightly curled up on the couch.

He tried so hard to do things like this with her, but it really just wasn't in his nature, and she didn't care in the least. The effort was what really mattered. They had been celebrating the completion of their work, and while he would have preferred some time at a shooting range or beating up some back alley thugs on Omega, he had happily done this simply because she asked him.

All of the upgrade schematics were ready for Shepard to review, if she gave the final go-ahead the ship would need to be dry docked for close to two months to make the alterations, with a team far more experienced than Aria's best. Perhaps Liara was going to pay for all of that as well - the asari had given them only a small hint of the kind of resources the Shadow Broker commanded but even just that had blown her mind. More money than most _worlds. _More investments than any private company, pouring millions of credits into an array of accounts every minute.

Liara could probably pay for repairs for half of the Flotilla and have money to spare.

_The Flotilla..._

She tried not to think about it. often. It did not hurt as much any more: no longer was it the poison in her mind that she could not even think of without almost collapsing, and that was mostly due to the turian beside her. He was _there, _simply making sure she knew she _still _had a home, and friends, and had barely left her side for days after Shepard failed to convince the admirals of her innocence, and even now did not like leaving her alone for more than a few hours.

But the simple knowledge that she could _never _return to the Flotilla always had her blinking back tears. As if her "treason" had not been enough, she had a _geth _living in her suit.

A _geth._

And had just spent hours discussing upgrades to a ship with _another _AI. An unshackled one, that was present throughout the ship.

EDI had made her laugh. Twice.

The first time, she had caught herself, and felt a strange bile rising through her system at the realisation. AIs were dangerous - _disgusting - _and for one to actually please her like that... _Keelah_... like she was pleased with Legion...

Was there anything even left of the quarian in her? Quarians hated AIs.

She had not even noticed EDI's second joke as anything other than ordinary until she thought back to it now.

Not even months ago, she was refusing to speak to EDI. Was thinking Shepard was crazy for allowing an AI on the ship, even if it _was _proving useful.

Then Legion... just days after her being exiled, Shepard had brought a geth on board. Her captain had been contrite of course, but it had almost pushed Tali over the edge. If it hadn't been for Garrus, she did not know what she would have done.

It had only been weeks ago. Now she called Legion "he" and he lived in her suit. She joked with EDI.

How had this happened?

[Tali?]

_Of course, probably noticed my heart rate or something..._

'Not now, Legion,' she whispered.

[You do not need to whisper: I have disengaged external speakers. However, if you wish me to be silent, I shall.]

She looked at the turian gently lying beside her. _He _was at home here... just like she was, in a way... but he had something else. A family on Palaven. Friends on the Citadel.

She had none of it. Just Garrus, Shepard, Liara now, and a few of the others. A family pushed together by war, sealed by hardship, by shared pain. Ashley dead, the things they had to do... and all of those lost on the Collector Base. She was happy enough, but wondered if there was anything more. No longer could she catch up on fleet gossip, or meet youngsters with new ideas on how to improve engines. She had received a couple of heavily encrypted messages from Kal and auntie Raan, but seeing as they were technically forbidden from speaking with her, they were few and far between.

'What do you do, when you're not talking?' she asked, desperate for a small distraction.

[We can idle ourselves, as we often do when you are sleeping, however there are always calculations, simulations, considerations to perform.]

'Of what?'

[Our surroundings. We are currently analysing the meanings organics may attach to the video playing ahead of us. This helps us further understand you.]

'And what's your conclusion?'

[That the value placed on trust and friendship and love, which to us appear to be similar emotions felt at varying intensity, can overcome any adversity, whether real or perceived. Organics rely on each other for strength, and when all parties accept this strength, the end result is greater than its combining parts should dictate.]

Her melancholy thoughts faded, and she chuckled aloud.

'It's just a sappy romance story, Legion.' She looked at Garrus' slumbering form, and felt a wicked grin pull at her mouth, remembering the flush of excitement at how _primal _he had looked earlier in the day, but resisted the urge to wake him again. She still had her friends, those she trusted, and had made her home here. Everything else... that did not matter as much. She could find the rest again, on her own terms. 'But thank you.'

* * *

The hot sun sank slowly down across the horizon, casting harsh red light across the plains before her. It was a sight Faith had never thought to see again, when she was taken away by the soldiers, just a sixteen year old girl, trembling and traumatised after finding the ruined remains of her parents.

She had never really appreciated it before. It was just the sunset, the only one she knew, the only one she thought she would ever know. She had not wanted to see the stars like some of the other kids, but in the end _she _was the one who lived, and saw dozens of different sunsets on dozens of different worlds. Most of them, on some mission or other, killing her way through whomever the Alliance set her against.

'I wonder how many people would be interested to know of Commander Shepard's secret romantic streak.'

Soft footsteps sounded behind her. Liara had been reading a human-written Prothean history book: they had agreed that hobbies were allowed on their holiday, and Faith had not wanted to disturb the asari as her cerulean features dissected the clearly incorrect human ideas about Protheans: she seemed to be enjoying herself, so Faith came out to watch the sun.

Liara sat down beside her, assuming a similar position of knees up, arms wrapped around them.

'What's that?'

'You do this often. You like seemingly endless views: whether it is the black of space or distant horizons. What do you dream of, I wonder?'

They sat in silence for a few minutes, simply enjoying each others' company. Liara's question was obviously rhetorical, but Faith still considered it.

'Whenever I look at something like this, everything else just seems... insignificant, I guess. This sunset will be the same until Mindoir's star burns out. Space will _always _look the same. It helps sometimes, to think that there's some things I _know _I can't change, that even the Reapers can't change.'

It was partially true, but she had never really thought of _why _she enjoyed views such as this. She looked at Liara, whose lips were pulled into a small, knowing, smile. She was far too smart.

'Fine. I just like it, ok? I don't know why.'

Liara's smile widened into something more open, sending Faith's heart fluttering. If somebody had told her told her, before she met Liara, that a woman could have her feeling this way with a simple smile, she simply would not have believed it. The very concept seemed absurd, and yet, here she was, feeling relaxed, happy, _flirty, _with an asari.

'I know you do. It _is _acceptable for you to like something, without a reason.'

Faith smiled in return. 'I like _you_.'

Liara bumped their shoulders together. 'And you have no reason for doing so?

'I've got lots of reasons. More than I know enough nice words to describe.'

'Flatterer.' Liara leaned in, resting her crested hear upon a shoulder warmed by the sun, mostly bare in the tank top Faith was wearing. 'Tell me what else you like.'

'I don't really have hobbies, Liara. Never really had time for them in the Alliance: there was always another mission, manuals to read, training to be done. I've got a few of those stupid little model ships in my cabin, but they're mainly brainless, to pass the time. Not needing to sleep much gives you a lot more time that you'd imagine; even I had trouble filling it sometimes.'

Liara shifted her seat, righting herself again, breaking the contact which Faith immediately missed. 'Do... you ever think about what they... _I... _put you through? With Project Lazarus? The cybernetics, the biotics -'

'The chance for _this._' Faith interrupted Liara, unable to hear the sadness in the asari's voice. 'The chance for _us. _Don't _ever _be sorry for doing what you did. You gave me the chance to fix the biggest mistake of my life, and even if I can't do it all right, I'm going to keep _trying_...to be the person you deserve.' She gave a soft sigh. 'Thank you_, _Liara. I really mean it.'

Faith glanced at her partner, seeing the brilliant cerulean eyes looking to the distance. As wonderful as the holiday had been; finally putting to rest old wounds, enjoying the horseriding, chatting with John and more, the greatest joy came with the knowledge that she was doing it with Liara, the both of them sharing the happiness, the strength that the time to relax was giving them.

She promised herself that _this _was how they would be. When things got tough, as they would in the future, she would be Liara's strength, just as the asari had become hers. Liara had done so much for her on this trip, and before, and Faith wanted, _needed, _Liara to know just how much she appreciated it all.

She reached over, and gently turned Liara's chin towards her, feeling her heart race as their eyes locked, and sapphire lips curled into a content smile. '_Thank you. _For everything.' Faith gestured to the barren landscape before them. 'It would be nice, to get lost out here, wouldn't it?'

Liara's gaze followed the gesture, then returned to Faith's eyes. 'With you... I would enjoy that. Perhaps when this is all over...'

For once, Faith did not feel apprehensive about talking about it, about the future, when it was so uncertain. She allowed herself the tiniest glimmer of hope, of imagining what could yet be, and allowed the open happiness to cross her face. Liara responded likewise, smile broadening, eyes taking a slightly wicked glint.

'We would have to find you a hobby, though. Perhaps you would like to join me on my digs?'

Faith shuddered internally at the thought of spending endless weeks digging in the ground. She loved Liara's absolute obsession with the Protheans, despite the research having taken a somewhat more... grimly _relevant _turn over the past few years, but did not share the asari's enthusiasm with the ancient culture. But she _could _enjoy Liara's enjoyment.

'Is that what you want to do?'

'Go back to a life of quiet digs and research nobody cares about?' Liara chuckled, 'It holds an appeal to me; I will not deny it.'

'Then you should do it. Maybe you'll need a bodyguard? I could do that. Looking intimidating, watching you dig in the dirt, in a tightly fitted archaeologist's uniform...'

Liara bumped their shoulders together again. 'Be serious. What would _you _like to do?'

'I've honestly got no idea. I...' her gaze flickered downwards, but she knew that Liara already suspected what she was about to say. 'I _like _fighting. Other than spending time with you, it's the only thing that - God, it sounds stupid - I feel _at peace _when I'm fighting. Not the actual killing or anything; just using what I've been taught, being as good as I can be at the one thing I _know _I'm good at. When my heart's pounding, when there's noise, danger, everywhere, and everything else just kind of fades away...' her heart began to beat faster at the thought, and she _hated _that it did. 'That doesn't bode well for me, does it? I can't do that forever.' she looked again to Liara. 'I don't _want _to do it forever. I want to be something different, _better_. For you.'

Liara took her hand. 'You have never been anything other than a soldier, Faith. If you want to, you will learn something new, learn new skills to perfect. We will just have to discover what you like. _Together._'

_Together..._

She ignored the niggling voice, telling her that thinking this way, of a future that was all too uncertain, was dangerous. The moment was too perfect to allow such thoughts to darken it; one last moment of almost childish imagining, before the fight began once more.

She squeezed Liara's hand, reaching over and planting a gentle kiss onto the deep blue lips before her. 'I'm looking forward to finding out what that is. Together.'

* * *

_**A/N: **Thank you Jay8008 for beta reading, and a sanity check on this one._

_I also forgot to credit Tayg for her contribution to the previous chapter - please accept this belated thank you!_


	19. Chapter 19

It is with great sadness that I cast my eye back across Mindoir for the final time, as we board the ship that will take us away. Our brief stay here was truly wonderful, seeing Faith finally cleanse wounds that have haunted her for much too long, the both of us simply enjoying each others company in a way that, truthfully, we have never been able to before. On the first Normandy, things were always busy, conversations were snatched between missions, our relationship as much something forged from the two of us pushed together in a high pressure environment as by choice and preference.

And the years following her death... they were the hardest. Knowing that I had done something dreadful, in allowing a group like Cerberus to toy with Faith's remains. Allowing them to perform some horrific procedure to bring life from nothing, for motivations I still refuse to consider: was it for her? For the galaxy? Or for me? Knowing that every day in the information trade my actions were rippling out, tearing apart bonds of family and friendship, causing death and sadness. Trying to reason that my own actions were to prepare for the war, that when I ordered assassinations I was saving more lives in the long term, that my threats were to _avoid _violence rather than cause it.

I had not realised how lonely it was until Faith arrived on Illium; the first physical contact intoxicating, the argument we had tearing down what I had thought was a strong professional persona, the reconciliation almost reducing me to tears that she was still there for me, granting me her strength if I ever needed it, accepting me despite how much I had changed. The years of solitude had melted away then, almost as if they were just a dream, but the pain remained. Faith had still rejected me, that night before Ilos, torn between finally accepting the position I had taken in her life, or maintaining her self-imposed burden, a decision I know still haunts her. Allowing myself to take that risk again, opening myself to her again, was the most terrifying thing I have ever done despite knowing that she had, at some point during my absence, come to terms with her feelings and was finally ready to let somebody else in.

In truth, trying to track the complex dance that has been our relationship seems impossible. That with two years and more than one argument, the old feelings could still remain was so improbable, but when we finally opened ourselves, admitting our mutual faults as well as the happiness we had shared, something became clear. We need each other, as much as simply _wanting _each other. I never thought to find acceptance for everything I have done, but she grants it to me without reservation, letting me know that I am _not _losing myself, that there is something left that another person could care for.

Strong arms wrap around me, warm breath tickling across my cheek, and I feel it again. A simple happiness, that we are together now. With all of the hardship that led up to us being here, simply knowing that yes, we _can _live something approaching a normal existence, that we can enjoy each other, want and _need _each other in the good times as well as the bad, has given me hope.

I lean back into her hold as she whispers softly. 'Thank you so much for this, Liara. You've given me so much when it feels like all I've done is take.'

'You give me more than you know.'

Acceptance. Happiness. Strength. A reason to _like _the person I am.

'I want to do more.'

With a smile I turn in her grip, and plant a kiss on her lips. 'I love you for the person you are, Faith, you do not need to prove yourself to me.'

'But-'

'Is it so hard for you to believe that you are desirable for who you are, rather than what you do? I _could _list reasons, if you wish. I have a very large vocabulary,' I tease, paraphrasing her comment to me as we watched the sunset last night.

Her face breaks into a soft grin. 'I'd do anything for you, you know that?'

I wrap my arms around her waist, ignoring the fact that the pilot of the ship we are supposed to be leaving on is rather obviously staring, head half-hanging out of the cockpit.

'I know you would. You already fought the Shadow Broker for me, remember?'

'Well, if you need any more giant monsters slain, I'm...' her face drops as her words trail into nothing, and I feel my own heart sink. It has been so easy to forget, out here, with no politics, no worries, no fighting. I am about to murmur a soft platitude when Faith speaks, voice full of steel, eyes flashing harshly. 'I'm going to do it. For _you._'

* * *

'How much have you learned so far?' She asked the hologram projecting ahead of her. The dark skinned councillor sighed wearily.

'More than I could ever have asked for, Shepard. The technology there is incredible. We're lucky: the Collectors weren't using Prothean tech; the stuff is far older, more advanced and mostly intact. The archaeologists have said that, without a doubt, it isn't Prothean. _We _know it's Reaper technology. The Reaper itself has shown itself to be made of a similar construction to the bits we recovered of Sovereign. More _proof_.'

Shepard frowned, and Liara stood slightly out of where Anderson could see her, also frowning. They both heard the tone of his voice.

'Then what's the problem?'

'The Council... _we_... can't decide what to do now. Tevos and Valern still aren't convinced that there is a full scale invasion coming. Surprisingly, Sparatus is the most sympathetic to us, but then turians know war. To top it off, even if we get them on our side, be it through evidence found on the Collector Base, or something else, a whole host of other issues come up. The biggest concern is the Treaty of Farixen; the one limiting the building of new dreadnoughts. If we stick to it, we'll be limited by the number of dreadnoughts the turians build, by a ratio of 5 to 3.'

Shepard snarled, but Anderson continued. 'I know Shepard, let me finish. The reason I'm not just advocating that we scrap the treaty is because of the impact on the citizens of the galaxy. If we start preparing for full scale war, there'll be mass panic. Non-council races will see it as the turians flexing their muscles, and push for economic reassurance. The batarians might well see it as an aggressive move and decide it's an excuse to start the war with humanity they've been dying for. That's not even mentioning the Terminus systems: we'll need them on our side as well, and can't just ask for an alliance while arming up.'

Shepard's head started to hurt. She was a soldier, not a diplomat, and was _sick _of this kind of endless argument that only wasted time. 'What's going to happen, then? How soon can we get around all of this?'

'We can't just "get around" it.' he held up his fingers in air quotes, immediately flaring Shepard's temper. Anderson might not want to admit it, but he was becoming as much a politician as the others. 'We need to do this properly, otherwise we'll just spook everybody, and we'll tear ourselves apart before the Reapers even get here. Think about it: say we actually start the preparations: what then? We have no idea how they'll attack. Will they be one giant fleet ravaging us system by system? Or will they send detachments to multiple consecutive ones? We don't even know how many there _are_, and we saw the damage just _one _did-'

'Stop it.' she snapped, glaring at Anderson. 'God, you're becoming just like the rest of them! I _know _all of this. But why the hell are we thinking about _that_, rather than the fact that we're about to get wiped out? We need _more _soldiers. _More _armies. And most importantly, _more _ships. We need to stockpile supplies, harden communications. We need shelters for refugees who can't fight, hospitals, thousands and thousands of training camps. We need to get people ready for the idea that they are going to be fighting for their lives, that their kids will be forced to fight, that there won't be anywhere they can flee to that isn't a damned_ war zone_!' She took several deep breaths, forcing herself calm.

Anderson scowled, clearly angry at her insinuation. 'You think I don't know that! It isn't that easy! This war is going to be complicated, messy, god damned horrific, Shepard. If we've got scared people, what you do think will happen?'

'Complicated?' She gave a bitter laugh. 'I'd say this war's going to be pretty simple, Anderson. The Reapers are going to wipe us out. This isn't about resources, or space, or economics, or power. We _can't _win a war of attrition against them, outmanoeuvre them, or lobby for peace when we're nearly defeated. Every day will be one they destroy more of us, and grind down our chances of _any _kind of victory! I'd rather get people scared _now, _then get over it, than get into a blind panic when they arrive.'

'So what, you think we should just tell them? Declare martial law, begin arming up and to hell with the consequences?'

'Not to hell with the consequences. We _deal _with the consequences. It's going to be long and hard and I don't envy you one damned bit. But you're the best one for the job. Udina's too self interested, though he'll be useful to keep around. I don't know nearly enough people high up in the Alliance or any other government to be anything other than the person you can point a finger at.'

She sighed again. 'And do it, if you have to. Have people blame me, hate me, as long as it all gets _started._'

'And what if we can't do it? I'd jump on this, Shepard. Throw the treaties out of the airlock, increase recruitment, turn of our colonies into ship building factories if I could. But doing that right now will just get us kicked off the Council; isolated, put under trade embargoes and military sanction. You _know _we need to begin preparing together, _all _the species, _all _the governments. What if I can't get them to play along?'

She glanced at Liara, who gave a reassuring nod. 'If we can't get the support from the top we need, I'll make the pressure from below unstoppable. I've got resources like you can't imagine, Anderson. I'll make sure every single person in the galaxy knows about the Reapers, and tell them exactly what they need to be doing. It'll probably be mostly ignored, but if even one percent of the population of humanity starts pushing, if the turians see that war is coming again, if the salarians get their hands on the data I have, what do you think will happen?'

She let the moment sink in. She had hoped not to need to say this, but it was clear that dancing to the political tune was not going to get them prepared fast enough.

'But more importantly, it'll be _me _that they follow when the war starts. That _you _are forced tofollow. Because I'll be the one who warned them, while you and the others sat around denying me. _I _don't want that. I don't know how to fight a war. But if I'm the only one willing to do it, I _will _go around you and the others and let the people know exactly what is going on.'

Anderson's frown deepened. 'If I didn't know better, Shepard, I'd say that sounds like a threat.'

'Good. Because that's _exactly _what it was. I know you're on my side, Anderson. I need you to get the others on my side as well; I'm sick of playing their game. I _want _the Council, the Alliance, all the other militaries, all together on this, and that kind of thing will go smoothest if it comes from the top. But I'm not waiting around any more. If you can't get it done, I _will._'

She had to resist the surge of fear as she spoke. She did not want to alienate Anderson, who was one of the few sympathetic characters at the high level she needed... but she would. She would have every one of them hate her, she would happily have herself declared pariah if it got people listening, signing up to the military, creating pressure to increase the size of the fleets.

Anderson looked furious, and she braced herself for his barrage, before he suddenly sat back, taking his head into his hands for several seconds. When he looked at her again, he just looked _tired._

'Shit Shepard, it's so easy to forget what it's like, up here with the politicians. Listen, I _know _how frustrating it is. Give me a little more time. We both know it'll be better if we do this willingly, with the support of the Council.'

She nodded, feeling her own head clear, just a little. She wished she knew how much time they had before the Reapers arrived, she wished everybody else could see what she had seen: the Prothean beacon, the death of a civilisation stamped into her brain. Her conversations, arguments, with Sovereign and Saren, _feeling _the words of the Reaper blast through her as if they were immutable facts of the universe. Vigil on Ilos, the VI sounding almost _sad, _lamenting the death of its people, as they were surrounded by the last ruins of the Protheans. The death of the human-Reaper, like the death of a _God_, quite literally chilling the air around it.

She could understand the appeal of burying one's head in the sand.

The Reapers were _terrifying. _Unimaginable. Even if she could somehow marshall the entire force of the galaxy, she had no idea if it would be anything approaching enough. What could she do that countless Cycles before had had not done? Sovereign had torn through an entire _fleet, _and that was just _one _Reaper.

But she had to try. To do _something._

A final shake of her head. 'Fine. I'll wait one lunar month before making my move. And don't be afraid to tell the other Councillors that: I don't care if they disbar me from the Spectres or send somebody out to arrest me; with the Normandy you know I'll never be found. Just get it done Anderson.' She suddenly felt as tired as the man looked, and her next word was almost begging. '_Please._'

She did not _want _this responsibility, to be the only one willing to do something! She was just a soldier: a good one, sure, but she was just somebody who was lucky enough to be in the wrong place at the right time often enough to be forged into something useful, who was lucky enough to get tangled in the ludicrously complex web of events that had led to this moment, who was lucky enough that some people believed her valuable enough to break the laws of nature to resurrect.

_Lucky... ha... _

She looked again at Liara, who was still watching, clearly wanting to support her... but they had agreed that for now, Shepard be the only one in touch with the Council. They needed _one _face to present to the galaxy, and Faith was the one who had stopped Sovereign, who had stopped the Collectors.

'I'll try, Shepard.' Anderson spoke quietly, clearly quite surprised at the emotion she had poured into her plea. 'I promise you, I'll try.'

The man surprised her by saluting crisply, before the feed cut.

Liara was there instantly. They were in the vid-comm room on the Shadow Broker's ship, having travelled there on Liara's shuttle; the Normandy still was docked around Omega. Shepard had briefly contacted Garrus and Tali, learning that Aria's crew had finished, that the Normandy was spaceworthy once more, _and _that her ideas for upgrades had all been set down in schematic format. She was impressed, but had several more things to do before working out just how she was going to have the upgrades installed.

A soft hand wrapped around her own, blue eyes wide with concern.

'Thanks, Liara... I suppose that went better than I expected. I hated having to drop that threat, but I'm sick of the Council doing nothing. At least Anderson can dress it up a bit nicer than I could when he tells the others.'

'Offering to wait for one month was unexpected.'

She nodded. 'I figure one month either way won't make much of a difference, whereas Council support will. We couldn't get much of substance done in that time anyway... but I'm not just going to sit idle. I don't want to fully hit the extranet with our data, but we need to speak to all the people who already know something about the Reapers: the people who scavenged Sovereign, the people you led to Ilos, all the rest. Get them to begin shouting a little louder. Maybe get some journalists on board as well.'

Liara smiled gently. 'I believe you are better at this than you give yourself credit for.'

Faith smiled grimly in return. 'Ha - when everybody else is doing nothing, it seems like what I'm doing is more than it is. I guess then there's only a couple more things to work out - what _we're _going to do, and where Cerberus stand. The Illusive Man's probably going to be... ha... frustrated, that I gave the Collector Base to the Council rather than him, but I don't think he's stupid. He's got resources; manpower as well as material, and I doubt he'll risk galactic extermination just because I hurt his ego.'

'The man is supremely egotistical, Faith. The old Shadow Broker kept a close watch on him: for good reason. It may interest you to know that _he _planned to take this ship, had I not occupied it myself.'

Fear shot through Faith. 'What? Why didn't you tell me!?'

'Because he did not go ahead: one of my agents in Cerberus told me Miss Lawson convinced him that I would be a suitable stand in. Given her...' Liara's gaze dropped, and Faith felt a soft despair sink through her. Nearly all of Cerberus' representatives on the ship had died: only Kelly, Ken and Gabby remained, and of those she suspected only Kelly held _any _kind of loyalty to the organisation. 'Given what happened, I will have to increase my surveillance of Cerberus.'

Faith shook her head. 'It might just be easier to cut ties altogether. But they're a resource... one I know won't flinch at the hard choices.'

'I agree. They can be brutal, but I would rather live with a dirtied conscience than let the galaxy die.'

Faith looked again at Liara, saddened by the words. She knew the asari had always carried a ruthless streak, but that Faith's dragging her into this whole situation had burned away the endearing naivety that surrounded it, that the upcoming war allowed her to so openly admit it... 'I wish it didn't have to be this way, Liara.'

Liara's eyes flashed sadly as well, looking to the ground. 'As do I.'

Faith reached out, and tilted Liara's head up. 'We'll get it done. And we'll be together as we do it.'

Dark blue lips curled into a small smile. 'It still seems so... strange... to imagine that despite everything going on around us, we managed to find this for ourselves, does it not?'

'I'm not going to complain about it.' Faith smiled in return, then broke the contact. They, sadly, still had work to do, and she started wandering back to the main "office" where Liara's monitors were. 'I guess that just leaves... well... us. Garrus and Tali will probably want to help upgrade the Normandy, as will Ken and Gabby. Kelly's going to be training with Karin, and Joker... I'm not sure I _want _to know. I was hoping you could help me get the ship's complement back up to strength. I need a weapons tech, a communications specialist, somebody to both fly the shuttle and do mess and maintenance duties, and a few more people for the ground squad.' She smirked. 'Do you think the Shadow Broker could get me the best?'

Liara gave a soft smile in return. 'I am certain I could. But - have you thought about contacting the Alliance?'

'I'm not in the Alliance any more, Liara.'

'I know, but cutting ties entirely with them will be counter productive in the long run. Even if you are not a Lieutenant Commander, you still command a great deal of respect there, and will be relying on them in the war. You could offer them a chance to have one or more representatives on your staff as a gesture of goodwill: and we know that Alliance personnel will have received the correct training, and can be relied on in a combat environment.'

Faith nodded, smiling, relieved that Liara was here. Having to do this on her own would be a nightmare. 'You're right. I'll think about it, I doubt they'll just hand over some of their best, but we'll see.' She looked up at the huge bank of monitors, all displaying enormous amounts of data. How Liara could possibly keep track of all of this astounded her. 'Makes me wonder about all the other militaries. The only one properly equipped for large scale war is the turian army... and the batarian.' Her mood soured. She had never been able to see the batarians as anything other than slaving monsters: she knew it was unfair to judge them as a species, but her feelings; tension in their presence, a bubbling anger when she was forced to speak to one, did not go away for knowing it. She pushed the thoughts to the back of her mind. She would _never _get the batarians to work with her, not after Torfan; that task fell to some other unfortunate diplomat.

'What about the others?' Liara prompted. 'We will need all of the species together: I admit I am somewhat ignorant as to the military structure of most.'

'The salarians just aren't built for full scale war; we can't sabotage the Reapers, trick them, beat them without firing a shot. Same with the asari; you're powerful, but don't have huge armies the same way we do. But both have powerful fleets, and very deadly strike teams. Good for hit and run attacks, but won't be able to last in a drawn out war.' She thought to what she knew of the other species. 'The volus and hanar don't have soldiers that could fight Reapers; they just aren't built for it, and the elcor are only a little better; I've never seen it myself but apparently they're like walking weapons platforms. Slow, but deadly; they won't win any battles but will be good support. On top of that, none of them will give up their fleets easily: they are small enough as it is, and leaving their worlds undefended...' Faith shook her head.

'I'm starting to see what Anderson meant, this is going to be a _mess_. We won't be able to restructure a species' entire military in time so we'll have to find the best uses for them as they are. Wrex might be able to help, gathering the krogan like he is, but they don't have a fleet. They'll be good, maybe the best, on the ground, but they'll be useless otherwise. The quarians are the other way around: we'll need their enormous fleets, but they can't fight a ground war. I can't imagine they'll be pleased about working with me after I insulted most of their admirals for _exiling _Tali, the idiots, but they are _hopefully _military minded enough to put it behind them.'

She looked at Liara, whose head was tilted attentively. Faith felt a small flush of happiness, knowing that Liara most likely knew most of this anyway but was allowing her to speak it all, to secure it in both of their minds. She very much appreciated the gesture. 'Last, I guess; the geth are an interesting one. Most of the other species probably won't happily work with them, but they've got a massive fleet, an _enormous _army, are more expendable than all the organic races, and Legion says they're willing to fight the Reapers. I bet out of all of the species, the geth will actually be the least trouble to mobilise.' Shepard smirked sardonically. 'It's almost ironic, considering that it was the geth that first led us to the knowledge of the Reapers.'

There was silence for a moment, before Shepard raised a hand to her head, rubbing harshly.

'Liara, I've got no idea how we're going to get all of these people to work together, unless the Reapers show up on the damned doorstep... and even then I'll be trying to convince them that _I'm _the best one to lead, rather than one of their own leaders.'

'It sounds as though we have a substantial task ahead of us.' Liara spoke softly. 'But do not think this is all your responsibility. We _do _have others we can rely on, and the Shadow Broker... _I... _have numerous high ranking agents in most governments and militaries.'

Faith looked again at the huge bank of monitors. Liara had yet to even fully explore the resources she now had access to, but the implication of what she just said was enormous. They would not, _could _not be ignored. If Liara ordered her agents to, they could increase internal pressure, or even...

Shepard swallowed, not liking to think it, but the thought would not go away. The asari's agents would be ideally placed to fill any power vacuum. If it came to the worst, the option was there to _replace _governments with agents loyal to Liara.

With a dry mouth, she nodded. 'It's good to know. Can you give me a basic idea of how to navigate this information?' she gestured to the monitors. 'Even if we amass the biggest fleet, the biggest army, the galaxy has seen, it might not be enough. We need to know how the previous Cycles fought, why they lost. We need to know as much about them as possible, to adapt our weapons and tactics. You said the previous Broker had files on the Reapers: I'd like to see them. As much as we can find, and I'd like some of your agents dedicated to this as well.'

Liara nodded firmly. 'It will be as you say, Shepard. I can also retrieve some of my notes on the Prothean extinction; there may be useful information there for you.'

As the pair got to work, Faith did not notice Liara's change in address.

* * *

_**A/N: **For some time now one of my previous chapters has been bothering me: Whilst I'm usually happy to leave imperfect chapters up to chart my progression as a writer, that one had not left my mind after several weeks. To that end I have posted a revised version of my chapter 11: it is still a harsh, uncomfortable chapter but I am more satisfied that it now portrays what I was trying to write. _


	20. Chapter 20

The networks are _teeming _with activity.

Our brief holiday, and my resultant quiet period, sparked an almost startling wave of theorisation and, in some cases, panic. I thought I had left things relatively securely: major operations were put on hold, key operatives given authorisation to act without approval, funds and resources pre-approved, but if I had stayed away for any longer than I did the chaos might well have spiralled.

And yet, it is surprising how little is required to stabilise everything. Personal, or as personal as a voice distorter can make a conversation, contact with my top agents. New operations given the go ahead. Operatives allowed access to archives. Money, millions and millions of credits, flowing through pockets, bank accounts and intermediaries.

It was almost unnerving. It took me around fifteen hours, after I had given Faith a brief tutorial in navigating the archives, to quench the immediate concerns, but now I can see just how widespread the ripples of my short break are. Major news outlets pondering the silence of the Shadow Broker. Governments wondering if something happened. Questions asked at every level, from the smallest local agents to the leaders of planets.

The Shadow Broker is as much an important part of the galactic community as any government.

All I do is facilitate. Gentle nudges, approving actions, deciding useful areas for investigation, allowing my top agents to decide the correct course of action with orders as vague as "ensure the salarians receive colonisation rights for this planet", or "secure the new technology developed by Ariake."

But there is so _much _to do... and each decision weighs. My intelligence reports that the Blue Suns are planning a raid on a volus merchant fleet. Hundreds of volus will die. Their turian bodyguards will die. I could order a sabotage of the Blue Suns operation... but the volus are providing weapons to a group linked to multiple terror attacks. The volus likely do not know that: the group is posing throughout a small colony, pretending the weapons are for defence purposes. I have investments in the company who manufactures the weapons, and will take an, admittedly small, financial hit if the delivery is not made.

How is there a right decision to be made? Do I simply ignore it, allow the galaxy to continue as it always has?

And that is only a tiny example, one that catches my eye as I scroll for a different piece of information.

The original concept seemed sound: begin using the Broker's resources to push, ever so softly, so subtly that nobody would notice, towards preparation for the Reapers. It is _our _plan, one that both Faith and I are in agreement over: she takes the lead on the military front, I work behind the scenes and manoeuvre the pieces. Each using our respective skills and knowledge: I know, in theory, how most militaries operate, and their relative strengths and weaknesses as Faith listed them to me, but to actually _work _with them... I do not speak the language of soldiers. I can fight, but I do not know war.

Faith may be no admiral, but she is not completely unqualified for the role. She has bested one of the most intense special forces training and leadership academies in the galaxy; advanced tactics, knowledge of alien militaries, linguistics and much more. She has led, and won, battles far larger than her previous military rank should dictate. Most importantly, she _knows _our enemy. She is one of the few who can comprehend the scale of the Reapers, who has seen the death of the Protheans through their beacon, who knows what is coming. She is to be as I am: a facilitator, the one who decides how the war is to be fought, then leaves the details to those who know how to lead fleets, organise supply chains and evacuate civilians.

I look over to her, diligently scouring through a smaller terminal to the side of my main bank, the one I use to access archived data. Glimpses of ancient art work, in the horrific shape of Reapers, dance across the screen, with the accompanying scientific interpretations. This is not her natural habitat, I know: as much as she can be a calm, reflective person "off duty", to her _action _is just that. She would prefer a problem that could be solved by a deadly assault... but she still does not hesitate. She is throwing herself into this, doing her duty, just as always.

As if sensing my gaze, she looks over to me, and I feel a wonderful rush as her eyes light up, lips curling into a small smile, one she only ever shares with me. 'You ready to eat?'

* * *

Kelly sighed happily and leaned back into her chair as her mother gathered up the remains of dessert. When she had called to announce she would be coming home, her mother had immediately gathered all of the family she could into their little house on Earth, and Kelly had spent the past week reconnecting with all of her grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins and old friends; she had not been home for over five years.

But tonight... was just her, her mother and father, and her two older brothers. Rather than big dramatic reunions, Kelly gently but firmly deflecting questions about exactly what she was up to, there was simple _belonging, _chatting about little nothings, about mother's plans for the weekend, about how she was about to become an aunt as her youngest brother's wife was pregnant, about the upcoming skyball game.

She had not been forced to stay away during her tenure with Cerberus, but had thought it better that way: she still called frequently, but with Cerberus' reputation, she could not be sure that she had not been tagged at some point, that the Alliance would not arrest her the second she appeared "on the grid" - she could not put her family through that.

Shepard had promised that whether it was through her assurance to the Alliance that the Normandy crew was no longer working for Cerberus, or if she had to use her Spectre status, nobody would come into any trouble during the break, and so far Kelly was absolutely unhindered.

She had not realised how much she missed them until now: all the phone calls, letters and small gifts sent through the post could not make up for a mother's embrace, the playful punches on the shoulder from her brothers.

'Hey, Kel?'

She opened an eye, and saw her oldest brother, Daniel, giving her a warm smile. He was in the Alliance, a logistics officer: not a front line soldier, but he still carried himself well, with the bearing of the military men and women Kelly had lived amongst for months now.

'Yes, Dan?'

'Can I speak to you for a minute? Privately?'

She gave him a curious look. 'Sure thing.'

'Don't keep her too long, we managed to find that old game you used to love, what was it, Monopoly?' her mother called from the kitchen. Kelly grinned in anticipation. She loved the game.

'Now worries mom!' Daniel called back. 'Speak in your bedroom?' he asked her quietly.

'Sure.' She stood up, and followed him through the little house, into her old bedroom which had been long since refurbished from the bright colours she had loved as a child, and still secretly held onto with her tiny rebellions like lustrous pink underwear. Now decorated in neutral beige, she sat on her bed, and her brother sat alongside her.

'What's up?'

He looked thoughtful for a moment. He, like all of her siblings, had her mother's red hair, though it was cropped short, giving him a harder appearance than she knew his kind personality dictated. His eyes were a brilliant, flashing blue he had inherited from father unlike her own green, from mother. He was a handsome man, and would one day make a lucky woman very happy, though at the age of thirty he had yet to find the one for him.

'Ok... look, I know you've said that you can't talk about your work.' _Of course... _she had asked her family, respectfully, not to press, assuring them that what she was doing _was _legal, her employers _were _treating her well, and that she _was _happy: she was simply bound by more than one confidentiality agreement. 'I'm a military man, confidential is practically my way of life, and I believe what you said about being happy. I really do.'

She nodded, and he continued. 'But I'm not stupid. The others are all so happy to see you, they can't see it in your eyes. You're here to say goodbye.'

Her breath caught. She was so used to being the perceptive one: was this what it felt like when she noted something others were trying to keep secret?

'I...' she felt at a loss for how to answer.

'Don't lie to me Kel, please. I'm not going to tell the others... just, are you ok? Is there anything I can do?'

'Oh... _Daniel_...' She wrapped an arm around his waist, and leaned in. 'I'm ok, I promise.'

'Then what's wrong? What aren't you saying?'

What could she say to him? Shepard hadn't been specific about what they could say about the Reapers, but Kelly knew just how she would sound, talking about it.

He was right. She was here to say goodbye to her family... for this was probably the last chance she would get. She wished she could get them safe, but she knew they would not leave their home. They had made their life here, and would rather die than leave it all behind.

'Something terrible is coming, Dan, something we can't...' She looked up into his concerned eyes. 'War, Daniel. There's going to be war.'

His brow furrowed. 'War? What do you mean... there's always fighting, and you're no soldier.'

'I know, I...' something inside her slipped. Tears touched her eyes, for everything she had been through, for everything that was to come, and she just started talking. About the Collectors. About Shepard. About the Reapers, about the war that was to come.

He did not say anything as she spoke, sitting still other than to occasionally hand her a tissue, or nod with an understanding she felt absurdly reliant on by the end. If he had doubted her, she did not think she could have finished.

As she finally finished, telling him of her own little role as Shepard's yeoman, filtering through the _hundreds _of messages the woman received every day so she only saw the ones that she would find useful, helping the Normandy's crew work better as a team, she finally looked at him again, seeing a soft fear there. He believed her. But there was also a calmness in it; he was never one for panic, or getting worked up.

'There's been rumours, ever since the attack on the Citadel, and Shepard...' He murmured slowly. 'Thank you for telling me, Kelly. You... you think that Earth will be hit?'

She nodded softly, and he simply lowered his head, eyes sad as he continued to speak. 'There's no way mum and dad will leave.'

'I know. There's nothing... I wish there was something more we... _anybody_... could do.'

Suddenly she nodded more firmly. There _was _something she, everybody could do. Their own little bit. She knew that true strength came not in a single person, even one like Shepard, but when people were _together_, each using their skills to complement each other. She had seen it, from something grand such as the team of the Normandy winning an impossible battle, to just two people, borrowing each other's strength, becoming a formidable force greater than simply the sum of their parts.

'You keep doing your work in the Alliance, Dan. It's the best thing you can do... we'll be relying on it; on you, on people like you.'

He gave a firm nod as well, looking scared... but determined. Like she felt. 'I will. And I'll see what I can do about mum and dad... and Steve, and our soon-to-be niece.'

She smiled, feeling much better - stronger, knowing that whatever happened, her family was happy, now, that there was somebody looking out for them, when she could not. That she actually had this chance, when so many other poor souls never would.

'Thanks Dan.'

He smiled softly. 'You ready to go back? You think you can actually beat me at Monopoly this time?'

Her grin widened. 'You're on. And you're going down, boy.'

They stood together, but Kelly took his arm before they left the room. '_Thank you, _Daniel.'

'No, thank _you _Kelly. Just think of it... my little sister, personal assistant to Commander Shepard! Ever think that you'd be serving under humanity's hero?'

She elbowed him in the gut, feeling his hard muscles through the thin t-shirt.

'Oooh... or are you serving _under _her?' He shot her a broad, obviously fake wink.

'Dan!' She thought of how Shepard's eyes both lit up and softened when she looked at Doctor T'Soni, banishing the harshness she often wore on duty. 'She has somebody who could squash me by just thinking it!'

'Really? I always heard she... nevermind, spill!'

'Sorry,' she teased, 'that's classified.'

* * *

'How seriously do we take these claims?'

Councillor Tevos wished she knew. There was evidence. Lots of it. The machine that nearly destroyed the Citadel two years ago was not a unique geth construction: the technology found on the Collector Base, used to create something far too similar to what Shepard called "Sovereign", was ancient. Much older than any Prothean artefact.

The uncomfortable conclusion was that Shepard's explanation was the only one that currently made sense.

But... the mere fact of the existence of this race of machines did not... _could _not... lead to Shepard's conclusion that they - dare she call them by Shepard's name? _Reapers... _were on their way, were going to destroy the whole of galactic civilisation... could that _possibly _be the future?

She looked up, maintaining a regal posture that had been a part of her personality for over a century. Three of Thessia's most influential matriarchs were projected before her, wanting to know her opinion on the data that had seemed to seep onto the extranet, into the notice of decision makers across the galaxy.

Was this Shepard's doing? Anderson had suggested the human Spectre was ready, and _able, _to tell the galaxy of her claims, with the hard data to back them up, but this was not a dramatic proclamation, it was almost natural, something that had no source, just one too many failures on the Council's part to bury potentially volatile information, hitting the extranet, finding a cult following for it, and eventually reaching the desks of governments and militaries.

The matriarchs wanted to know what she knew. Wanted _her _opinion.

It had never been this way before. Asari government was... _unusual_... amongst the species of the galaxy. For the most part, colonies and even different regions on Thessia had no centralised laws: certain things; murder, theft, and so on, were illegal, economic contributions to the asari galactic presence was fixed, but usually the asari decided things amongst themselves, at a local level. Tax levels. Size and involvement of the government. Punishment of criminals. All decided by votes amongst every asari, taken by extranet polls.

The matriarchs were the influence amongst the asari: their opinions were the ones that mattered on a galactic scale, they were the ones who represented her people at diplomatic events. There was something of a matriarch's council, but it had no actual power: they were mostly those who had decided their "real" careers were over, and now used their family's wealth to fund a lifestyle that involved passing judgement on others, deciding their age gave them enough authority for others to take them seriously.

To somebody in their sixth century like herself, it was a frustrating arrogance, but it had worked for her people for millennia... and allowed her a great leeway in her career. The matriarchs wanted to speak their opinions, but for them to be just that: no real responsibility behind the words, no consequences to defend other than to say "simply my opinion".

She wanted to make a _real _difference. To further the asari's position in the galaxy. To be the face of the asari.

This was an inevitable consequence.

She nodded. 'Matriarchs, these claims are no longer to be ignored. I am willing to officially declare the existence of these...' She winced internally. '_Reapers, _as truth.'

The three figures burst into loud conversation with what were most likely multiples aides and other "influential" figures off camera, before Tevos frowned and spoke clearly. 'Matriarchs! _Please_.'

They immediately calmed, and had the decency to look ashamed for their unbecoming outburst.

'The existence of this species does not confirm or deny _any _other rumour you may have heard. Please trust that the Council of the Citadel, and the central governments of all the major' _Goddess, I hate that term... _'species, are dedicating resources and support to further investigate the Reapers. We have not, and will not, go public with the announcement until we know more.'

'Are they a threat to the asari?' The leftmost figure asked.

That was the question. Existent or not, a course of action had to be decided. Did they do as Shepard recommended, and prepare for full scale war?

'I...' She hated having to do this. Political platitudes... she had to make them. People demanded answers when she had none to give. She had promised herself she would be different, when she took office, but had caught herself doing so more than once. 'I cannot answer that question yet, matriarchs. We simply do not know enough.'

That was the truth of the matter. What could be done? If Shepard was proven wrong, they could ignore the outrageous rumours. If there was enough proof that she was completely right...

She swallowed thickly. That scenario was nothing short of nightmare inducing. She was confident of herself, but she was not a wartime politician. She could ensure the humans and turians made peace... but defend a galaxy?

There was just no possibility that Shepard could be right. Giant machines wiping out civilisation, every fifty thousand years?

Outrageous. The stuff of stories.

The matriarchs looked as unhappy as she felt. No real answers... but she had none to give.

Suddenly their images froze. They were discussing amongst themselves, Tevos knew: they had done so several times previously, and the consequences of them doing so in her presence was never pleasant.

And she had nothing to do but wait.

She was torn.

Part of her wanted to just ignore Shepard: humanity was such a hasty, passionate species, ready to commit to something at a speed even the shorter lived salarians were not. Was it so outrageous to suggest that their Spectre had been taken in by an obsession like this?

But she could not. Shepard was granted her status precisely _because _of her level-headedness. The human had provided enough evidence to ensure her claims could not be dismissed.

But what then? She could not simply commit to Shepard's war. There was no evidence that the Reapers would actually come, that they would attack.

_Evidence..._

She had been a soldier, once. For half a century, she had fought for the asari, and _hated _how this kind of bureaucracy, the demand for evidence she could not, as a foot soldier, give, would impede what she wanted to do.

But seeing it from the other side was different. If she simply committed to open war, on the word of one soldier, the consequences would be astronomical.

Shepard's given name was _Faith. _The word had several translations, but the most relevant one was belief without proof.

She wondered how jaded this life had left her, that the thought roused only a tiny spark of humour. Had her parents, who had tragically perished to a batarian raid, imagined the name would ever hold such poignancy?

Finally, the images of the matriarchs began to move again.

'Thank you, Councillor Tevos, for your opinion. We await further updates, to decide our course of action.' The central matriarch spoke, before all three feeds cut.

Tevos' shoulders fell almost imperceptibly, and she slowly sank back into her chair, with the slightest hint of a break in her posture.

The matriarchs were as indecisive as always, hoping somebody else would make the decision, so in case things went wrong, they could pass as the wise advisers who had argued caution.

The bitter thought flashed across her mind, causing her to grimace. She, of course, felt similar thoughts about most people who thought themselves more qualified than herself to do her job, but never willing to take up the mantle of responsibility, but rarely thought them about her own people.

The asari were different. They did not make platitudes, as other species did... their long lifespan simply meant words of caution were just that. Wait and see until the wisest course of action could be considered.

_Is that not right?_

The matriarchs who had now faded from view had frustrated her just as much as any of humanity's ambassadors, or one of the increasingly insistent emissaries from the volus, who were still agitated about humanity being granted a Council seat so soon, but who as always were unwilling to take the only action they could - economic - because of the effect it would have on their own profits.

She glanced at her chrono. She had over ten more minutes scheduled for this talk: she had expected the matriarchs would be particularly inquisitive.

The realisation was oddly freeing. Until her appointed call time ran out, nobody would interrupt her. Her assistants would hold all of her calls.

Tevos glanced at the large pile of datapads on her desk.

She had a somewhat unique chance to catch up on some of her mounting paperwork...

But she did not _want _to.

She wanted to just... _Goddess... _forget her duties, for this almost uniquely freeing moment, before some other important dignitary took her attention, or galaxy-threatening problem presented itself, and she had to launch herself back into the debates about what to do regarding the Reapers.

_Ten, nearly **fifteen **minutes..._

Tevos checked that her door was still locked, and that her calls were still on hold.

She was alone, and would not be disturbed.

She tapped a few keys on her terminal, banishing the endless reports from the Collector Base, replacing them with a colourful, childish display.

A grin tugged across her face as playful music danced from the speakers.

_Path of the Goddess: A Justicar adventure game._

* * *

_**A/N: **I am mostly flying in the dark now with regards to the Council and their acceptance of the Reapers before they actually arrive, any and all feedback on this: good, bad, giant logic hole I missed somewhere, is greatly appreciated!_


	21. Chapter 21

'Shepard.'

'Jack.' Faith had asked Liara to find the Illusive Man's real name: she could not stand his pretentious moniker.

The two stared at each other, each image projecting ahead of the other, for several long, tense, seconds.

Faith was not willing to write Cerberus off as a lost cause. They were aware of the Reapers, they had a powerful base of scientific and military strength, even if it was specialised towards smaller, precise operations rather than large scale war, and they _had _given her her life back, and this ship.

Their morality was... problematic... but Faith was slightly concerned that it did not bother her as much as she knew it should. Cerberus did some _terrible _things. She had seen them as she hunted Saren: killing Alliance admirals, experimenting on Rachni, tricking soldiers into being slaughtered by a Thresher Maw.

Her time with the organisation had not improved her view of it. She did not doubt that many, perhaps even most, of the people working for it were fundamentally decent people, wanting to make a difference in a way they could not do in the Alliance or any other private company.

But Cerberus were brutal. They did not see people: they saw resources, to be allocated to further their own goals. To be used and spent in the most efficient manner, and tossed aside when they served no further purpose.

_Am I any better? _

Out of everything she had seen since she was brought back; the burning plague victims on Omega; Jacob's father, mad with power, setting up a harem with women treated like pleasure toys; the horrific experiments conducted by Maelon, it had been her own sponsors who sickened her the most, with their experiments on the man-child David Archer.

Experiments she allowed, because she saw the results.

The geth could be controlled, and despite Legion's reassurances she did not believe the geth were impervious to Reaper influence, whether they decided to join the Reapers as fellow synthetics when the war came, or through hacking from the Reapers themselves...

Could she, in any way, claim some kind of moral superiority over Cerberus? Did she even want to? If the Reapers were defeated, _then _she could go back, rectify the wrongs...

Or was it too late? Was the original choice, rather than any justification or future intent, what defined her?

But she... she _thought _she was dedicated to fighting the Reapers. That every stain on her soul was so victory could be achieved.

She could not be sure what Cerberus' goals were. The Illusive Man claimed to want the best for humanity, but she believed his view of what was "best" was a little too closely aligned to his own ambition for power. Perhaps he truly believed that his actions were for humanity, and was blind to any notion of humanity that _he _did not conceive as right.

Could the same be said for her? She was currently captain of the most advanced frigate in the galaxy, planning to make it even more powerful, flouting some of the most stringent intergalactic laws to do so. She was the lover of a person who could start a war with a click of a button. She could execute a man in the street and have nobody question her authority. She had committed genocide _twice _now... if one counted the Collectors as sapient beings. She had never _wanted _any of this power, this responsibility... _I think..._ but had it nonetheless.

Jack Harper took a slow drag from his cigarette, clearly waiting for Shepard to speak. She had called him, after all, from the Normandy which was now in orbit of Hagalaz, as Liara made the final preparations to set up a mobile information platform in Miranda's old office. She was waiting to see if she would need to make use of the Broker's ship's transmission device, to distribute her data on the Reapers at an almost impossible scale, reaching every registered messaging account, and more, before scuttling the ship, and allowing it to crash into Hagalaz. It was too dangerous to allow to fall into the hands of others.

'Just so we're clear,' she began, eyes hard. 'The Normandy is my ship now. I suspect, however, that you planned this be the case from the start. The crew, even EDI, was designed to be loyal to _me, _not Cerberus.'

He simply nodded, waiting for Shepard to get to the point of the call.

'The Cerberus personnel who survived have all quit, and are now being paid using funds that have no tie to your organisation. I've cut my access to any Cerberus operations accounts, and will not be seen using your insignia. As far as I'm concerned, our relationship was an alliance to stop the Collectors, and we did that.' She grimaced internally. 'And I want to thank you, for the resources, and the work involved in Project Lazarus.'

The Illusive Man raised an eyebrow. 'I gave you that not out of charity, Shepard. I expected you to stop the Collectors, to eventually be the one who fights the Reapers. To that end, you have so far acted... admirably.'

Shepard nodded, and clasped her hands behind her back, falling almost instinctively into a military parade as she continued. 'It's not over yet. Beating the Collectors was a victory... but a small one, in the big picture. Securing the base, though, has given us the proof we need.'

She barely stopped to consider how those words sounded. Hundreds of thousands of lives saved... and the _victory _was a piece of technology?

'The Council has been looking at the base for nearly a month now, and Liara's sources tell me that they _have _accepted that Sovereign was not unique, that the Collectors were building another one, that there _might _be some credence to my claims.' She took a breath, trying to stop herself from pacing. 'But it's not _nearly _enough. We don't have anything that indicates that the war is coming, _we _don't even know when and they're nervous about dedicating themselves to something that, if we're honest, might not happen for years yet. In fact, the _only _organisation I know applying themselves to the fight is Cerberus.'

She fixed the artificial glow of the man ahead of her's eyes.

'So, I want to know exactly what Cerberus is doing. How you can help. If you have anything that can get the Council, the Alliance, _all _of the species moving, without me having to go ahead with a _ridiculously _risky plan to release all of our information to the public.'

The still sitting man took a sip of his whisky, leaning back into his seat. 'Cerberus is currently dedicating all appropriate resources to investigating Reaper tech.'

'Reaper... _tech? _How much of it have you salvaged?'

'Enough to be of use to us, not enough to be of use to anybody who hasn't accepted the truth of their existence, and their purpose.'

The answer set her nerves on edge. That kind of... _arrogance_... was dangerous.

'And who decides that?'

'_I _do.' His voice turned cold. 'I've already told you, Shepard, that Cerberus is _dedicated _to defeating the Reapers. You've used our resources, sanctioned our operations, risked your reputation and _more _by working with us. I won't say I'm happy with your decision regarding the Collector Base, but it looks like it's slowly getting results, so I won't complain.'

'And would you have said that Cerberus were the only ones qualified to investigate the base?' she asked, voice icy.

'I would have said we are best qualified.' The man stubbed out his cigarette angrily, and leaned forward in his chair. 'I have my own sources, Shepard, and am glad that, at least, they are following the anti-indoctrination procedures we developed. But the Council are limited in their investigations because they are using the base to confirm the existence of something they don't want to be confirmed, rather than using it to find ways to defeat them.'

Shepard leaned back on one foot, and crossed her arms. 'Then what do you think we should do?'

'I've got agents within the teams who are working on the Collector base. They are keeping an eye open for anything that we'd make better use of than the Council, but so far we've not managed to get our hands on anything useful.'

'It would be easier if you could operate in the open,' she gestured widely with one arm. 'share your knowledge and resources with others.'

'Perhaps.' Jack's smile was much too practiced; it was a politician's smile. 'But it's not our style, Shepard, and no reassurance on your part will have the Council or Alliance treating us as anything other than terrorists.'

She stopped and thought for a moment. Was she truly doing the correct thing, working with this group?

_For the mission. _

When the Reapers came, any petty differences would disappear.

The Reapers would not distinguish between a Cerberus agent and any other organic.

That made them, for now, allies.

'Fine.' She admitted, reaching up to take her head into a hand, but stopping herself before she did.. 'So, as I see it, we are both collecting data the other could use. You're in a better position than me to make use of some of the scientific data I've got, and the more I know, the better I can prepare for the Reapers. I'm not going to give you access to the Broker's archives, but I'll send you what we have on the Reapers, if you do me the same courtesy.'

'Agreed.' He did not even hesitate. 'I didn't bring you back to second guess you, Shepard, and whatever you might think of Cerberus, we are _absolutely _committed to stopping the Reaper Cycle. You'll have the data.'

* * *

Consciousness returned to Kaidan with an agonising slowness.

He had been on a mission... alone... in batarian space bordering with human colonies, sent to destroy a slaving facility from the inside; a mission he had completed, and he had even managed to rescue a handful of slaves, deactivating the devices the batarians implanted in the slaves' skulls, which would kill them at a signal, before leading the traumatised group of humans, one a girl no older than fifteen, to the extraction point. And then-

He stiffened, eyes flashing open as his body screamed in protest at his movement. He was in a hospital. The scent of disinfectant hit him with a harsh stinging in his nostrils as his eyes adjusted to the lights. He was alone in a small room, with a tiny porthole showing that he was onboard a ship. Several machines beeped nearby, and he saw multiple tubes leading to assorted points of his body.

He looked to his right hand. He had been injured. A batarian had launched a grenade at his group just before his carefully placed bombs detonated, and he had not managed to raise a barrier in time: the rescued slaves were unharmed, but his hand had been mangled, and he had escaped with the side of his face burning.

The end of his arm was a mess of bandages, stained with red spots, and he could not move it.

He began to panic. He had seen that at least one finger was destroyed before he had killed the batarian grenadier, and he passed out from the pain when he finally got to the extraction shuttle, hidden from batarian scans with similar technology used by the Normandy SR1.

No doubt responding to his activity, the door swung open and a doctor hurried in, checking the machine readouts. She was a strikingly pretty woman with bright red hair tied back in a tight knot, and glittering green eyes; both rare traits these days as more dominant genetic characteristics took over.

'What happened?' he asked her.

'You were injured on your mission, Major. You have been sedated for approximately thirty hours now; you are on board the _SSV Budapest _and we are currently safe in Alliance space.' The doctor, who looked rather young to him... _getting old, Alenko... _reeled off the words with a businesslike efficiency, before her cute features softened. 'Your face wasn't too bad: there will only be minor scarring from the shrapnel, and luckily none caught your eyes. Your hand was a lot worse: you lost three fingers and there was some serious damage to the remaining tissue; your armour was totally shredded and we had to surgically remove a lot of both shrapnel and shards of armour.'

His heart began to pound, and he felt sick to his stomach. His fingers? He, of course, had received battle wounds before, but nothing so debilitating... he would be unable to properly fight again: he could not shoot a gun, or fight hand to hand, or hack a terminal as easily.

His career as a soldier was over.

He instinctively looked to his hand, and the medic started speaking quickly again. 'Oh, there's no need to worry, Major - we received the go-ahead to use the best reconstructive surgery the Alliance has to offer. We replaced your fingers with bionics that your body seems to have taken remarkably well; you'll be fully functional in three days, and after a few weeks you won't even notice the difference!'

He glanced again at the doctor. She smiled at him pleasantly, a gesture he wanly returned, considering his next words carefully. 'I thought that kind of technology was very heavily restricted... and expensive?'

'Oh, it is, sir, but the authorisation came from Admiral Mikhailovich directly. He's on board now actually, and I alerted him that you are awake before I came to see you. He wants to speak to you, and will probably be over shortly.'

He nodded gratefully. 'Thank you, Doctor...'

'Jackson. But you can call me Tina, if you like. And there's no need to thank me, Major, they told me about how you rescued those slaves - you're a hero!' She stopped her fiddling with the machines at the side of his bed to smile at him again, clasping the bed's rail and leaning forward slightly.

Kaidan suddenly felt incredibly awkward. He had never been happy receiving this kind attention for his work.

'I was just doing my job, Do... Tina.'

'_You _might think so. But you saved those people from _such _a horrible fate, gave them a chance to recover and live something approaching a normal life!'

'The batarians claim slavery to be a cultural right and tradition, and, you know, I try to not apply human values or customs to other races, but...I just can't...' his voice trailed off with a shake of his head, hoping she'd follow the topic away from himself

She frowned. 'It's a disgusting practice, and it takes years and years for the poor people to get over what the batarians do to them.' her gloomy features suddenly cleared again, and he felt himself caught by her smile. 'But let's not talk about that. How is your hand feeling?'

He tentatively flexed, but could not move his fingers through the bandages. But he could feel a certain tingling... through _all _of his digits. 'Stiff, and I can't move my fingers. But I can _feel _them...'

'Good, that's a good sign at this stage, it means the surgery went well.'

'Did you...?' he nodded at his hand.

'Oh, no, I'm no surgeon! I take care of post-op patients.'

'Do you get many on a cruiser?' He asked, genuinely curious. He had never paid much attention to the medical wings on the larger ships he had served on.

'More than you might think. Soldiers need surgery just like everybody else; for accidents on board or the occasional serious illness. And we have a few families on the vessel. But it's mostly treating people like yourself: injured in battle.'

'Well, ah...' was this worth it? It wasn't like he was doing anything wrong. 'I'm glad to have someone like you looking after me.'

She fell quiet for a second, and he worried that he had said too much, before she chuckled, and spoke. 'I hope I'm not too forward, but... once you're all recovered, would you like to... aah... do something? I know it's hard for military people like us, but I'm sure we can work something out...'

Her voice trailed, and took a closer look at the woman. She was smiling shyly, and he felt a curious happiness in her company: something he had not properly felt with a woman since Shepard-

_Shepard..._

Even as the brunette reached his mind, he did not feel the familiar rush of her obliterating the presence of whomever was sitting ahead of him. Doctor Jackson was still smiling at him, and he smiled back.

'Sure thing, Tina, wha-'

'Major Alenko!' The dominating form of Admiral Mikhailovich burst into his small room, and Tina instantly flushed red, before retreating, flashing him another shy grin as she slinked from the room.

He looked towards the Admiral, who strode to the porthole and looked out for several seconds, until the door slammed shut behind the Doctor and the admiral turned back to face him.

'Major, good job on the mission. The base was completely destroyed, and slaving operations in the sector have been crippled. And rescuing those slaves... damn Alenko, if you'd called in to ask I'd have said leave them, but you did it, and it's just what the Alliance needed. PR gold; we've already got the story out to the news and we're expecting recruiting lines out of the doors from tomorrow.'

Kaidan frowned. 'That's not why I did it, sir.'

The admiral waved dismissively. 'I know, I know. But that's not going to stop us using it; we've been having... _troubles_... both with recruiting and desertions following the stories about what's been going on with those missing colonies in the Terminus, and this will show people what the Alliance is really about.'

The admiral suddenly seemed to realise who he was talking to, and straightened his back slightly. 'The Doctors tell me you will make a full recovery.'

He nodded his head, still too bound up to move much more. 'Doctor Jackson told me I have you to thank for that, sir.'

'That's right, Alenko. You've done the Alliance proud on your last few assignments, we don't need you taken out of action for a few fingers.'

He thought back. After his unusual mission to rob the asari matriarch, he had led a small, highly skilled squad, including an N7, on a search and destroy mission in salarian space, destroying a base that was used to research human chemical resistance... on live humans... and was given a whole platoon to wipe out a Terminus pirate base, which he had managed without a single casualty, and only three serious injuries, none permanently debilitating.

'Sir... permission to speak candidly?' The words felt strange; he had never felt the need to ask before, but given the unusual treatment he had been given recently, he felt the urge to know just _what _was going on.

The admiral raised a brow in his direction, but nodded.

'Might I ask what's going on? I was in the Alliance's black books for nearly two years, and all of a sudden I've been given some of the most risky, some of the most classified, some of the most _important_ operations going. And now you've approved medical surgery that most frontline soldiers would never see. I'm not going to question any orders sir, but something doesn't seem right to me.'

To his surprise, the admiral _laughed_, and his next words were more casual than any he had heard from the man.

'I was wondering how long it'd take you to ask. I thought it might have been sooner, but then that's why it's you and not somebody else.'

Kaidan was confused by the word choice. 'Why _what's _me, sir?'

'You're right Alenko, you're getting these missions for a reason. But right now, not even _I'm _at liberty to decide if I can tell you why. Just know that you've been one of our best soldiers for a long time, and we're finally making use of it. Not just your skills in a fight, which are damned impressive, but you're diplomatic. Smart. Loyal to _us._'

He did not like the emphasis on the final word, but the admiral was already continuing. 'But anyway, like I said I can't tell you. Just keep doing what you're doing, Alenko, and you'll find yourself serving humanity like you never imagined.'

The admiral nodded to Kaidan's bandaged hand, and his voice resumed a businesslike tone. 'Get yourself healed up, I've got another mission for you. And when you've successfully completed it, as I expect you will, you'll have some well deserved leave.'

He thought to the pretty doctor who had offered some time together, and had to resist smiling. He nodded formally, unable to move much more. 'I will do, sir. And... ah... thank you, for the fingers.'

* * *

Faith looked at the immense selection of the weapons in the Shadow Broker's locker, and decided that the huge Revenant LMG would be best for what she needed.

She hauled up the heavy weapon, took it to one of the booths, stabilised it correctly against her armour and opened fire at the holographic targets at the far end of the firing range.

The kick of the gun was welcome, and the noise was as roaring loud as it would be on the battlefield, but there was something... unsatisfying... about the practice mode most weapons had for training on board ships. Rather than firing bullets, the gun was emitting infrared beams that would be picked up by the intelligent VI that ran the firing range. The gun still reacted as it would with live fire, but it was not the same, and she wished there was a planet she could land on to properly unload; both real ammo and her stress.

The talk with the Illusive Man... _Jack Harper... _had left her on edge.

Back on Horizon, a confrontation that seemed _so _long ago now, with all that had happened, Kaidan had asked, voice laden with accusation, if she was with Cerberus because she thought she owed them something.

She had scoffed at the idea. She was with them because they were fighting the Reapers, whereas he was stuck on a backwater planet calibrating cannons that did not work.

The same could no longer be said. She could completely cut ties with Cerberus, take up her duties as a Council Spectre, and prepare for the fight through "legitimate" channels.

The gun suddenly hissed, and she slapped a new practice clip into it, opening fire again with long, heavy bursts, shattering the holograms ahead of her with accurate shots to the body, to the head. Her old body would never have been able to handle this weapon as she could now; her bolstered muscles and reinforced skeleton allowed her to keep the heavy recoil under control.

Should she do that? Just abandon Cerberus, call them the terrorists they were, and do the "right" thing?

Her teeth bared at the thought, clenched together to stop them rattling.

_Right thing according to who?_

The Council weren't moving fast enough. It had taken nearly a month to just have them admit that the Reapers _existed, _and they had still not accepted the truth of the incoming war, or more importantly, begun to prepare.

And even those preparations... what could they possibly do that would be enough? Dreadnoughts took months and months - _years _in peacetime when there was no rush - to build. Soldiers needed training, and proper training took a long time. Supplies needed to be stockpiled, kept mobile, because there would be no such thing as a _safe zone._ Civilians needed to be formed into militias: during the war, anybody not fighting would be a liability.

Her lips curled into an angry snarl.

_Liability. _

She was thinking of billions and billions of people. People who did not like fighting, did not want to fight, who simply wanted to live their lives, to love, to have children, to be _happy._

There would be no place for them in the war. Every second a soldier spent evacuating a non-combatant would be one that could be spent fighting.

Another clip slammed into place. A harder program was loaded, nearly twice as many "foes" as before, moving, taking cover.

How could she fight a war like that? What could she do? If civilians were somehow pulled from a world under attack, where could they go?

Shipped to another world, to wait for the Reapers to attack _that _one, to be rescued _again, _all the time costing soldiers their lives?

There would be _nowhere _safe. Scared people crammed into the remaining worlds... there would be riots. Supply shortages. Scumbags taking advantage, pretending their little criminal enterprises were of any consequence, before the Reapers found them _again. _

There would be no such thing as non-combatants. No civilians.

Only _liabilities._

That was why she could not follow the Council again. They would not accept the brutal, disgusting reality of the war.

And they would lose for it.

Another clip. A harder program, the endless roar of the weapon causing her ears to begin ringing.

What would be left of the galaxy, if by some miracle she could actually _win? _

Armies. Soldiers. People who had fought and fought and fought and had nothing left except the knowledge of how to kill.

People like her.

How could a galaxy be rebuilt with people like her?

People like her who decided that compassion, that the drive to save others, was a fucking _distraction _from the fact that entire populations were being _harvested _and the monsters doing it didn't care if the people they killed were soldiers or farmers or children, didn't care if they had to follow them across the galaxy, didn't care if it took decades or centuries; there was nowhere to run, nowhere to hide, the _only _way to survive was to fight_, _to destroy them, to turn every Reaper to _ash _so they could not hurt anybody else.

Another clip. She could not even count the glowing foes lining up against her now, just keep _killing _and _killing _and _killing, _because maybe once they were _dead _there would be enough people left to rebuild something, enough worlds left untouched to start anew -

Maybe there would be some spark of compassion left, enough people left who knew how to, who _wanted _to build and care and love, rather than just _destroy_ and sacrifice what they had no right to sacrifice, blackening themselves because maybe then they could win, could destroy the Reapers, even if what was left was... was...

The gun hissed, and her hand groped the empty air where her stash of ammo was.

All gone.

Her limbs were trembling. The recoil? The gun fell from her grasp, and she distantly heard it fall to the floor over the ringing filling her ears.

She braced herself on the barrier ahead of her, tugging off one gauntlet, then the other, running a hand through her hair, surprised to feel how damp and clammy it was as she drew in a long, shuddering breath, willing her body to stop shaking, her teeth to unclench.

Soft footsteps, behind her.

A gentle touch, across her cheek, smearing dampness, leaving a stinging trail.

Her scars had re-opened. She had almost forgotten them, as she had relaxed with Liara over the past weeks.

Faith spoke without looking back. 'We have Cerberus on our side. We're going to be sharing data with them.'

Liara said nothing, simply continued to wipe the moisture from her face.

Sweat.

Maybe.

'Something I said... I told the Illusive Man that the best thing about defeating the Collectors, was that we secured the base.'

She took a deep breath, and forced herself to turn, to see Liara standing behind her, looking... small... compared to how she felt with her armour on.

'Not the people we saved, not the relief we brought to the other colonies who don't have to worry about the attacks any more, not even the destruction of that monstrosity they were building.'

Faith ducked her eyes, and continued. 'I feel like... like I just _can't _think of people on that kind of scale. When there's so many, they're just numbers. Each one's got family, friends, a life of their own, but I can't see it. I just see... _civilians. _Soldiers. Liabilities and resources. I can see how someone like the Illusive Man can get to the way he is.' She ducked and picked up the weapon, moving to stow it in the weapons locker. 'I'm practically there myself.'

Liara followed, speaking softly.

'You act to _save _them, Faith. Regardless of what you think, you have personally saved more people in your lifetime than, quite possibly, any other person alive today. You stopped the attack on the Citadel. You postponed the Reaper invasion. You destroyed the Collectors.'

Liara stepped forward, cupping Faith's cheek. 'Countless other missions, where you have given people hope, a chance to live, when they had nobody else to stand for them.'

'Doesn't it matter _why?_ Saving them...' She tried not to look into Liara's gaze, not to bore into the asari with what she knew would be softly glowing eyes, but could not resist, feeling her heart soften, her body relax, as the brilliant blue swallowed her whole. 'It's always been a _result _of what I've done, not the _reason._'

Liara looked thoughtful, before speaking softly. 'Then why do you fight?'

'To destroy the enemy.' she replied, without hesitation.

'That is no reason!' Liara's vehement voice startled Faith, but before she could speak the asari continued. 'You are not a mindless fighter, Faith, not a person who destroys because she _wants _to. Tell me the reason. Why do you want to stop the Reapers?'

Liara took another step closer, her body now pressing in what must be an uncomfortable way against the unyielding material covering the soldier's chest, somehow seeming taller despite - between Faith's natural height advantage and the armour - being a foot shorter than the human. Her next words were a fierce whisper.

'Why do you _hate _them?'

Faith thought of the Reapers. What they would do. What they would never, ever stop doing, until somebody ground them into dust.

'Because they're _disgusting._' Her fist curled tightly, nails digging into the soft flesh of her palm. 'Because they're going to make people into monsters, by turning them into the horrors we've seen, or by forcing them to do horrible things to survive. And people don't deserve that.'

Liara nodded firmly and took a step back, giving the soldier room to stash the gun, but Faith caught the asari's hand and squeezed. 'Thank you.'

'You are not a bad person. The things you do... you do not do them for power, or for yourself, or for Cerberus... or even the Alliance or the Council.' Liara took the heavy gun from Faith's hand, the action seeming to double its weight as it dipped in the asari's slender, two handed grasp, before she stowed it away, looking towards the weapons locker. 'Your actions give people life, and hope, and you do so without thought for yourself.' She suddenly shot a smile, accompanied by a glittering cerulean gaze, over her shoulder. 'So do not think of yourself that way. I will not allow it.'

* * *

**_A/N: _**_Thank you Jay8008 for beta reading._

_Happy 2013 to you all! _

_Here begins another of my planned deviations from ME3 canon: Cerberus. I thought they got a very raw deal in the game, turned into a dull (and rather stupid - the Citadel attack in particular made **no **sense) generic evil corporation for the sake of providing enemy fodder. So I'll be completely reworking their role, and the relationship with Shepard, into something hopefully more believable and in line with their "morally dubious but in general pro-humanity" label from ME1 and 2... I hope you enjoy!_

_As always, feedback is greatly appreciated - I love hearing from you all!_


	22. Chapter 22

Faith again reviewed the blueprints Garrus had given to her concerning the Normandy retrofits. The ship would be absolutely deadly when they were completed: able to out-fight most _cruisers _in a straight-up firefight; with armour plating most militaries lacked the technology to implement, shield technology that could take an eye-watering amount of punishment, EDI's cyber-warfare suite, and weapons that she was hoping could damage even the Reapers themselves.

Weapons she had leaked to every single species' militaries a little over a week ago.

The leak had been a calculated risk. She had considered, debated long and hard with her small crew; the other members now returned from their leave. Ken, Gabriella and Tali were installing Liara's new suite in Miranda's old office, for the inevitable day they could no longer use the Broker's ship and had to begin their preparations on the move. Kelly had begun her practical medical training with Doctor Chakwas, having happily accepted the post of medical assistant as well as her existing duties, and Joker was running endless battle simulations with EDI. Liara, Garrus and herself had been the ones discussing and preparing for the war on a larger scale, making moves from prompting large mercenary groups to absorb their smaller rivals, in preparation for _their _absorption in turn into the inevitable galactic fleet, to actions such as releasing Thanix Cannon technology.

The latter move had been their riskiest so far, but Faith was nothing short of delighted with the results. In just days, existing weapons and defences had been rendered obsolete, and militaries scrambled to upgrade and update as many of their ships as possible, because they all knew that the other species would not hesitate to do the same. Research expenditure had skyrocketed on defence to weapons like Thanix, and though the cannon was only a shadow of the terrifying Reaper weapons, the technology was similar enough to be of use, and militaries were investigating ways to upgrade both the weapon, and the existing defences against it.

All of this, without causing anywhere near the unrest their worst-case scenarios had predicted. By giving the technology to _all _governments, none actually had an advantage and the power balance remained fairly even.

The greatest risk, they soon found, was coming from government branches, rather than military. Most species were _not _happy with somebody shaking the balance of power so brazenly, doubly so when none had any idea of who was doing it. Liara's informants told that the salarians had assigned an STG team to investigate. The asari were concerned of a new military power, and though they had yet to commit to action, their mutterings carried great weight, particularly in the Citadel Council. The turians, who were the original researchers and developers of the weapon, were furiously investigating their technology being stolen and distributed for free. Of the Council species, only the Alliance had not sought to investigate the unusual leak so far.

But the time had come to make the final decision about the Normandy. To take the plunge, and trust EDI to be the power behind the most powerful frigate in the galaxy, to trust it... _her_...to allow Shepard to run a tiny crew, making space for drastically improved armaments.

'I... don't feel comfortable, dry docking the ship for such a long time, Shepard.' Faith looked up to the speaker: Garrus was uncharacteristically nervous, and though his voice gave little away, she knew enough about the turian to know his simply stating such a thing was enough to show his feelings. He glanced around the Normandy's communications room, occupied by Faith, Liara, Tali, Joker and himself, before continuing. 'Not to say that I don't like the idea. It's what we're going to need. But we've been upsetting a lot of people... and will probably be doing that same while the fittings take place. Illium might not be under the control of any central government, but that doesn't mean the ship will be safe there.'

They had decided on Illium as the best place to make the fittings: some of the galaxy's best engineers made their home there, and they could get most of the materials they needed from the huge variety of markets.

Faith felt an uncomfortable curling in her gut at his words. Garrus was right: though Illium was under no official jurisdiction, if the STG... or anybody else... found out she was responsible for the leaks, and found them whilst the Normandy was in a state of disrepair, the consequences could be dire. Shepard's crew estimated that with a good team, the fittings could be made in approximately a month.

A long time for a ship that was being hunted, to stay prone.

'You underestimate the... let us call them _laws, _of Illium, Garrus.' Liara spoke softly. 'Whilst there is little in the way of a formal legal system that the galaxy at large might recognise, the corporations and corrupt politicians that run the planet are highly protective of their revenue base, and a client paying close to a billion credits is a _very _important client.'

Faith fixed Liara with a glance. Out of all of them, the asari was the one to know the details of the planet. 'So do you think we will be safe?'

Liara's ice blue gaze joined her own, and Faith was again reminded just how easily the asari could compartmentalise herself: she was very definitely _working _now; her perfect poise, formal voice and clear expression, even in the presence of her closest friends, displayed that clearly. 'I could not guarantee it, Shepard. But I think of anywhere in the galaxy, Illium will be best. A private dock, and a crew hired in secret, might run slightly less chance of being discovered, but if we _were _found, there would be no protection such as Illium could grant.'

'What kind of protection?' Shepard prompted.

'The first layer is commercial. If we request that the fittings are kept secret, and pay well enough, they will stay that way through official channels in a way Council bureaucracy could not allow. The next would be legal: the corporations would not hesitate to employ the Council's own laws against them, and if even one company on the planet was seen to be pressured, the others would help resist in fear of that company's defeat by an _official _government setting a precedent.' Liara clasped her hands together ahead of her, and leaned forward onto the table. 'The final would be physical. Most of Illium's companies have considerable armed presence, either through contracts with mercenary companies, or their own private armies.'

'And you _worked _there? _Voluntarily_?' Joker spoke up for the first time during the meeting, sounding incredulous.

'For close to two years, yes. I made something of a name for myself, in certain circles.'

'Damn... what happened to the Liara who stumbled into my cockpit looking for the bathroom, like, four times?'

_**I **__happened._

The unwelcome, uncomfortable thought elbowed its way into Faith's mind. It was _her _fault that the old Liara was gone. She had caused the asari so much pain, both by pulling her into this whole mess... and personally.

But still, for some unfathomable reason, Liara _loved _her.

And her own feelings did not relieve the guilt - if anything, the opposite was true. Whilst the shy naivety of the archaeologist who spent most of her days hiding in the small lab behind the Normandy SR1's medical bay had been endearing, and still lived underneath the colder exterior, Faith was ashamed to admit that she _liked _Liara's new edge. It _excited _her.

What did that make her?

'I could tell you...' Liara picked up the glass of water that was sitting in front of her, and peered into it critically as she gently swirled the fluid, before turning her clear blue gaze to him with an exaggerated narrowing of her eyes. 'But I am afraid I would have to kill you.'

Chuckles sounded from around the table, breaking the awkward tension caused by Joker's question. 'Ok, scary blue lady, point taken.' the pilot continued, holding his hands up in submission.

'So,' Faith overrode the distraction, determined to end any more of this line of questioning. 'Illium it is. Liara, I suspect you've already approached the right company for us?'

The asari nodded firmly, a hint of a smile playing across her lips at Faith's correct assumption of her efficiency.

'Good, can you make the payment arrangements?'

'I will. I suspect they will be ready for us inside of three days.'

'Thank you.' Faith nodded in return. 'Tali... ah, Legion as well...' The concept was still strange and uncomfortable to think of; the geth living with Tali. But the quarian, despite some obvious doubts of her own, had assured Shepard that she was happy to deal with the situation herself. 'I'm leaving you in charge of the upgrades. Garrus, I want you to stay with Liara and I on the Broker's ship until the Normandy is ready, your contacts and knowledge will be of better use than your technical skills.'

She glanced between the turian and quarian, sitting close by each other. They had become close - more than close - but she could not hinder the war effort for the fact. Faith softened her voice for her next words 'I'm sorry. We shouldn't be apart for more than a month.'

Garrus looked at Tali, then to Shepard, sighing in resignation. 'I know. It's the correct decision, Shepard.'

_The correct decision._

The phrase that summed up so much of her life. But just because it was correct, that did not make it _right_.

'Like Liara said we'll have a few days. So say your goodbyes; hopefully we'll be so busy the time will disappear.'

'Jeeeez,' Joker's melodramatic sigh drew all of their attention again. 'If you're not busy turning my baby into the _Love Boat_, can I go?'

Again chuckles rang around the table, and Faith looked around at the small team fondly. The five of them had been together from the start, in one way or another, and despite the troubles _all _of them had faced along the way, they shared something that would keep them together through the inevitable pain that was to come.

'Dismissed.' She saw both Joker and Garrus relax almost imperceptibly at the word, and felt herself doing the same. Some things that military training drilled into soldiers, never left. She smiled to the group. 'I've brought up some drinks from the Broker's ship, and will be putting a film on in the lounge later. Some old Earth one that _EDI, _of everyone, suggested - she said you'd like it, Garrus. It's called "Dirty Harry".'

* * *

The loft is strangely empty.

I am used to Faith waking before me, but she usually stays in the room - either in bed with me, simply enjoying the peace - or studying datapads on the couch. Returning to the Normandy, still in orbit around Hagalaz, every night is a routine Faith insisted on after finding me asleep at my terminal one too many times, and I have to admit I enjoy the formality of ending the day, the pair of us winding down as we return to what I now know as _home_.

Her thoughts were troubled last night.

Joker's offhand comment struck her deeply, and though I managed to relieve the tension with a joke I heard more than one human involved in the information trade make, and a small performance learned during my work on Illium, I still saw a tiny widening of her eyes, her fingers clench into her palm, her shoulders drop just the smallest amount.

The room seems barren without her. Most of the cabin is still furnished to the standard Cerberus provided, but even one as uncaring of material objects as her has left a very distinctive mark on the small room. Whilst she used to keep a small holo of her sisters by her bed on the Normandy SR1, ever since our trip to Mindoir this has been replaced with a picture of her entire family, gifted to her by the religious leader of the colony, a picture taken just months before the batarian raid, of five smiling humans , a much younger looking Faith's arms wrapped around her youngest sister's waist. Alongside it is one of the two of us, both mounted on Tri'Lessa's back, taken by the horse's owner as we returned the majestic animals.

A series of small model ships are lined up along the desk, even those assembled poorly left out on display, and a picture of the ground crew of the Normandy SR1 sits beside her terminal, simply one of the hundreds and hundreds of press shots we were forced into by our respective governments following Sovereign's attack. Our faces are all held into the stoic poses the photographer demanded, dressed in ceremonial-style armour, gleaming dramatically in the artificial life but useless in a real fight. A reminder, perhaps, of that simpler time, as we scoured the galaxy, became friends, without any understanding of just what the reapers meant.

Even the empty fishtank is _hers _in its own way - most would have filled it simply for the sake of using it, but she enjoys the reflections the softly rippling water casts out across the room more than she would fish floating in it.

After preparing some clothing for the day, a scientist's uniform free of any insignia, a shower seems like a welcome prospect: her very absence makes the room feel colder. An absurd notion, on the regulated environment of the ship, but that does not stop me stepping under the warm, streaming water, thoughts wandering.

She had not wanted to make love last night: we simply held each other, thoughts and emotions swimming together in a deep meld.

The war will be hard on her, I know, as it will on us all.

In a way, it is my fault.

By encouraging her - perhaps even forcing her at times - to open up, to finally break the shell she had worn for so many years, every decision she makes now truly _affects _her in a way it perhaps might not have done so before. Her emotions, previously kept tightly controlled but let out when she needed them, as if they were simply another tool in her arsenal, are now bare for both loving and hurting.

She assured me she would have it no other way. To know partnership as we do is worth any cost, she said, worth any pain along the way.

I assured her the same. If she had not come to find me on Therum, I would be dead by now. If mother had not been embroiled in Saren's schemes, I would be living out my final days in ignorance, a foolish child, thinking my research important when the cold reality is that it was only of interest to a few hundred niche researchers.

The automated water cycle suddenly ends, and warm air begins to buffet me from all sides.

Perhaps, should we win, I could go back to that life. With no hard decisions to make, no dead bodies other than those that have been that way for thousands of years, no pain.

Something inside me bristles at the thought.

The Broker's networks hold _so _much. So much potential, to help rebuild a galaxy that has been shattered by war. So much knowledge, resource, power. Blueprints for technology that may be lost, stored safely in remote data banks. A galactic library. Histories of every species.

The power to make a _better _galaxy.

Could I simply abandon that, to live a life of peace?

Am I just trying to convince myself that I act for the greater good of the galaxy?

The thought of abandoning the Broker's networks actually stresses me. Who else could take over, be trusted to do the job right? Other than the immediate crew of the Normandy, and Cerberus, nobody knows anything about the real Shadow Broker. Feron was taken to Kahje to recover from his torture, his body and mind shattered by two years of imprisonment. None on the Normandy would want to fill the position. Cerberus could not be trusted to do so without selfish motivations.

As I dress, pulling on the smart uniform, the worries begin to dissipate. None of that will matter unless we can _win. _And to that end, I will do all I can to help Faith, whether it is liquidate all long-term assets to bolster resources available for the imminent war, pay for the Normandy upgrades...

Or be there for her, however she needs me.

Where is she?

* * *

Faith awoke early, as usual, gently tucking Liara tighter into the bed, before rising and showering in the soundproof bathroom.

It had been good to get the small crew together last night, the team bonding over drinks and the slightly ludicrous film. They shared an easy camaraderie, even the now ex-Cerberus members; Ken, Gabriella and Kelly, happily joining in the banter and discussions.

Having a smaller crew certainly made the ship feel a lot larger, and more empty, but she suspected that feeling would go away when the retrofits were completed: there would barely be _any _living room between the new armaments, shield generators and improved armour plating. But for all the tactical advantage, perhaps an equal bonus was that Faith felt _comfortable _with a small crew. She had never felt a particular need to justify her actions to anybody other than herself, and more recently Liara, but she knew that in general Operations workers were kept out of the loop of activities on the ground. It always bothered her: a soldier should know what they are fighting for. And while providing mission briefings to the several dozen crew members would have worked, she preferred the idea of simply talking about them to the small group.

She needed to bolster the ship's complement, however. A communication specialist. Weapons researcher and requisition officer. Shuttle pilot and mess sergeant. At least two new ground crew members, preferably one of them biotic.

She shook her head as the steaming hot water pounded into her, plastering short, dark, hair into her scalp. _She _was a powerful biotic.

She just did not know _how _to use her powers, other than the simple Throw she had been trained in by the Alliance, and the recklessly offensive and dangerous Biotic Charge she had discovered by accident as she fought the asari Spectre, Vasir.

Not for the first time, she felt a deep well of discomfort form in her gut. If Miranda were still alive, the perfect human would no doubt have taught her how to use the complex pre-set nanite commands to perform a wide range of biotic manoeuvres Cerberus had programmed into her body, so she did not have to spend months learning the correct muscle sequences as she did during biotic training with the Alliance. Training that she was quickly relocated from, because her powers were amongst the weakest recorded amongst humans, and her skills lay elsewhere.

_No longer. _

She had extensive reports on her powerful new body, and would study them. Train and practice, to become an even more deadly warrior. To honour Miranda's memory, her sacrifice, her work in bringing Faith back to life, to fight the fight, to love as she did now.

Satisfied to have a plan of action from the day; to begin the search for new crew members, and begin something of a biotic training course, hopefully with Liara, she quickly ended the shower and dressed into some casual clothes, pulling up her omnitool to check any messages.

Her inbox had close to four hundred unread mails, received as she slept, and her heart sank. Somehow her contact information had permeated throughout the galaxy, sold for no doubt exorbitant sums by information brokers, and spreading by word of mouth from there. There was everything from death threats to pleas for help to, _of course_, junk mail, burying the few important messages.

As she watched, the mails began to shift. With a rapid speed, starting at the oldest, the messages were marked "read", then moved into one of several folders, most being deleted after just seconds, those that might be of interest saved for further sorting.

Faith glanced at her chrono. It was just before 0400, ship time. Kelly was already awake, sorting through the messages so Faith did not have to.

Her yeoman worked too hard: she knew the soldier awoke early, and so tried to do this before she rose every day, despite Faith's reassurance that Kelly did not have to disrupt her sleep just so she could read her messages a little bit easier.

Glancing again at the peacefully sleeping Liara, Faith stood and vacated the room, asking EDI to identify Kelly's location as she stepped into the elevator.

_Yeoman Chambers is currently in the Port Observation room._

'Thanks, EDI... What time did get to sleep last night?'

_Her vital signs shifted to those associated with sleep at approximately twenty three fifty two, close to two hours after she entered her bed._

_She's not getting enough sleep..._

Faith disembarked the elevator on the third deck, quickly pouring a pair of coffees, filling one with milk and sugar as she left the other steaming and black, before traversing to Kelly's location, the door opening before her.

'W- oh! Shepard!' Kelly jumped out of her seat, quickly looking down at herself, then back up helplessly. The redhead was wrapped in a very fluffy, bright pink robe, the legs that poked out beneath them clad in baby blue trousers. 'Erm... I hope this is ok, ma'am, I brought it back from home, I-'

'Relax, I think we're long past dress codes.'

The soldier crossed the room, handing the milky coffee to Kelly, and sank into the opposite leg of the "L" shaped couch to the yeoman. 'If you're going to ignore me about getting a decent nights' sleep, you might as well be comfortable.'

'Thanks, Shepard.' Kelly took a sip of her coffee, then sat down as well, pushing the portable terminal on the table away to make room for the beverage.

'I mean it though. You're going to burn yourself out of you don't sleep properly. My messages can wait. Have EDI do them, if you need to.'

Kelly smiled wanly. 'Maybe I'll do that. But...' the redhead glanced down at her clasped hands, then back up at Shepard. 'I've not been sleeping well, anyway.'

'Nightmares?' Shepard prompted gently. The normally upbeat redhead had lived through something absolutely tragic; both the abduction, and the loss of most of the crew on the Collector Base. To expect _anybody _to come out of that unscathed was unrealistic, and Kelly was no soldier: she alone on the ship had no military training, very little experience of combat situations.

Kelly nodded. 'I... It's silly. I keep trying to think of myself like one of my patients. What I would say to me.'

'You went through something horrible, Kelly. It doesn't just go away because a psychologist says the right words.'

Nightmares were something Faith knew well. From the scent of burning flesh on Mindoir, to the sound of her men dying at Torfan, to any number of things since, waking in a cold sweat, shaking, suppressing the urge to vomit was something that plagued even her drastically reduced sleep time.

'It's a little different from the other side. I'm starting to see why soldiers don't like psychologists much,' added Kelly with a nervous giggle.

'Your own mental health is just as important as everyone else's.' The soldier took a sip of the bitter coffee, and considered her next words carefully. 'You know talking about it helps some people: my door's open, and there's nobody on this ship who won't offer an ear.' Faith looked down into the swirling black depths of her mug. 'If it keeps happening, speak to Karin, she'll give you something to help you sleep.'

Drugs that suppressed dreams were still experimental, and most caused physical sluggishness as a side effect of the deeper sleep, which was why Faith avoided them. But Kelly's job was not as physically demanding, so she was less concerned about that than she was her yeoman exhausting herself.

_Shepard, I apologise for disturbing you, but we are receiving a call from the Alliance, designated urgent. It is Admiral Steven Hackett._

Both women rose to their feet at EDI's interruption, and Kelly looked questioningly at Shepard, who shrugged. The Alliance would not be calling unless it was very important, doubly so an _admiral _actually making the call.

'We'll talk later, ok?' Shepard felt bad leaving the conversation there, but to both of them, duty came first.

The redhead nodded. 'I... I'll try and get some more sleep. Good luck with the admiral, Shepard.'

* * *

After asking EDI to ask the admiral to hold for a few minutes - not an unreasonable request considering the ship's onboard time, which the AI had no doubt informed him of - Faith quickly returned to the loft and dressed into a formal, unmarked uniform, and planted a soft kiss onto Liara's sleeping temple before descending to the communications room.

As the image of the grizzled Admiral Hackett materialised in front of her, she had to force herself not to salute.

_I'm __**not **__in the Alliance anymore, and won't go back. _

A deep nervousness gripped her as their respective ship's computers calculated time lag and a dozen other variables. What could the Alliance want with her? They had made their position clear: that while she was with Cerberus, they wanted nothing to do with her. She could not be prosecuted for any of her actions, due to her Spectre status. And now that the Collectors were defeated, she had no intention of returning to the military. She would not accept their orders any longer. She could do far more on her own, than she could restrained by their command structure and regulations.

Finally the calculations were completed, and a small green light lit up in the corner. Hackett began immediately.

'Shepard. Thank you for your time.'

She kept her face neutral, and waited for him to go on.

'I'll keep this brief. The Alliance has a deep cover operative who recently reported in, saying she has proof of the imminent Reaper invasion.'

Shepard's back straightened. So soon? They were not ready, not _nearly _ready! 'I thought the Alliance denied the Reaper threat?'

Hackett nodded his head. 'Officially yes. I'm not ready to commit one way or the other; I know you well enough to know you wouldn't say what you're saying just for attention or influence, but so far what you've provided _isn't _enough to justify preparation for full scale war.' The admiral quieted for a moment, looking thoughtful. 'But whatever you're doing, Shepard, it's getting noticed.'

His face cleared, and he straightened into a parade rest. 'The operative is Doctor Amanda Kenson, and she recently reported that she found what she believes is a Reaper artefact... and that it contains proof of an invasion.'

'So why are you calling me? If she's got proof, then you need to start preparing! Ships, armies, show the proof to the Council!' Her heart began to race. Was this finally it? Could they begin preparing for this war properly? She shifted on her feet, fighting the urge to begin pacing excitedly. They could finally end the act of pretending everything would be ok, and give themselves a fighting chance when the Reapers arrived!

'Before we could extract her - and the artefact - she was captured, and is being charged with terrorism.' The admiral shifted awkwardly.

'Charged? Terrorism... where is she? Who has her?'

'Amanda Kenson is a deep cover operative, working in batarian space.'

_Batarians._

She scowled instinctively, teeth flashing in the dark room, and clenched her fists, nails digging into the palms of her hands. The monsters that slaughtered her family. That plagued the galaxy with their disgusting slaving ways and barbaric practices. She tried to avoid them, where possible, for a heady cocktail of anger and fear never failed to pump through her body in their presence.

She had _hated _Omega, when she was forced there to recruit Garrus and Mordin, when she had to return occasionally for supplies, because so many of them called the place home. They were everywhere, begging in the streets, broadcasting their propaganda over loudspeakers, ranting about the "human plague" to bored bystanders, looking to start fights in Afterlife.

In one of the busier markets, near the famous club, some were even selling their slaves out in the open, despondent looking people of all species kept in _cages_ as a monster actually stopped her in the street and offered a "good deal" on a pair of young humans.

It had taken every ounce of self restraint she had not to Tear. Him. Apart.

But she could not fight every batarian on that rock, and could not risk angering Aria by damaging her profits.

So she had bitten down on her cheek hard enough to draw blood, pushed him aside, and continued on her way.

'I know your feelings Shepard, but hear me out. She's been captured, and you know we can't risk sending in an Alliance rescue team without threatening all out war: the batarian Hegemony has been looking for a reason for years and that would be just the excuse they need. Between that and your obvious interest in her find, I want _you _to go in and rescue her. But I want it done quietly. Go in quiet, alone, or don't go at all. You've got the skills for it, and one human, disassociated from the Alliance, saving a friend, shouldn't cause any trouble.'

_Is he __**serious?**_

Her breathing shortened, and she could not keep the anger from her face, feeling it pull at her mouth, feeling it literally pull her face apart into a map of deep, glowing scars.

'Let me get this straight,' she snarled, glaring at the hologram, 'I do _your _job for you, destroying the Collectors, saving hundreds of thousands of colonists in the Terminus, and you want _nothing _to do with me.' She jabbed a finger at him. 'And now, when it's convenient to _you_, you call and tell me you've not only found proof of the Reapers, but you want _me _to go in and sort out your mess _again_?'

She took a step forward, clutching the rail before the projection of Hackett. 'And not only that, you want me to leave behind my team, and go in alone, to save _you _face in case I get caught? Tell me why I shouldn't just take this information, raze the batarian facility to the ground and take the artefact straight to the Council. Because unless you have a damned good reason, that's _exactly _what I'm going to do when this call ends.'

It was no empty threat. She would have Liara trace the Alliance's communications using her moles there, take the Normandy, find the artefact and reduce the batarian facility there to _slag._

And then she would _finally_ have her damned proof.

The admiral said he knew her well: if he knew she wouldn't lie about the Reapers, he no doubt knew she would not lie about this either.

'You know as well as I what that would do to relations with the batarians, Shepard. We can't afford a war with them.' Hackett sounded angry: she would be in his situation. But she needed him to know where they stood.

On that, at least, Hackett was right. If the Hegemony and the Alliance got into a war, they would be wasting ships and resources against each other while the Reapers closed in.

Not that she would leave any batarians alive to report who was responsible, as her raised brow to Hackett suggested.

'And...' the gravely voice suddenly lost its business-like edge. 'Doctor Kenson is an old friend of mine, Shepard. I want her safe. So I'm asking you, as a favour to the Alliance, to do it like I want it done.'

Faith felt a horrible, deeply bitter laugh bubble up through her throat. She withheld it, but did not hide the scorn in her next words, even as a plan came to mind.

'A _favour? _You lost the right to ask me that when you disowned me.' She turned and took a step away from him, before turning back, and assuming a more neutral stance, crushing down her emotions. 'I'll do it your way, but I want something in return.'

The admiral's response was equally venomous. 'Since when have you become a common merc?'

She did not allow the insinuation to touch her. 'I don't want money. I'm fitting out a crew, and need personnel. I'll do it your way for three people. Three _good _people, like those who staffed the Normandy SR1... the best you have. I'll take care of their pay if you want, I just need the bodies and training. You can keep them Alliance, as representatives on my ship. It seems like you're at least ready to believe me about the Reapers if I find proof...'

The man nodded, face deeply unhappy and angry, but he was no fool.

'So I'm guessing you've got an idea of what I've been up to, preparing for this war,' she continued. 'I'll let them report back to you, but they'll be under my direct command. It'll benefit both of us. You can keep an eye on me, and I'll have a rapport with you this way.'

She paused, and waited for the admiral's response. He brought a hand up, clutching his chin thoughtfully. 'Three people...'

He was clearly weighing up the cost. The financial cost was substantial, but compared to the Alliance's huge budget, the lost investment of training and skills was but a drop in the ocean. But he would be taking a huge risk assigning three of his people to a non-Alliance command; any action they committed under Shepard's order would be his responsibility, the consequences his to deal with. And Shepard's current tone was likely _not _inspiring confidence.

But she knew from experience how pragmatic the admiral was. Despite their tense relationship, both she and the Alliance fought the same fights, and the people would do as much, if not more, good with her than with the military.

'What do you have in mind?' he asked finally.

_Yes!_

She had not truly expected him to accept her price. The situation must be more serious than his understated delivery suggested. Not wanting to waste any time, or question her good fortune, she sent him the three of the job specs she had in mind. 'I want a comms specialist, who can work with multiple incoming and outgoing sources to set up a war-ready command hub. Next, a maintenance worker who's happy to do mess duties, and pilot a shuttle. There's more detail on the file I just sent you.'

She swallowed, and spoke the next words clearly. 'And a soldier. A good one. N-designated, if possible. I need someone I know will keep up with me in the field.'

Hackett nodded slowly, reviewing the files ahead of him. 'The first two I can do. The last will be a problem: Our N-designated soldiers are thin enough on the ground already, and I don't want to give one up.'

'I need the best, Hackett. If they're good, they'll do more with me than they could in any Alliance op. If they're not, you'll be sending them to their graves.' She was disappointed, but not surprised, by his answer. Only the tiniest fraction of soldiers were even recommended for special forces training, and of those fewer than half even graduated N1. When she was promoted to Spectre, the number of N7s had been just over forty, with around five hundred who had graduated the program at other levels.

'I believe you. I can assign the other two without anybody asking too many questions, but I just can't give you one of our special forces operatives.' Again he raised his hand, rubbing harshly along his scarred jawline. 'How do you feel about rejects? I've dealt with a damned good soldier a couple of times now. He's brutal on the battlefield, recommended for N-training by more than one officer but I don't think he's got the right mindset to pass anything more than the field assignments. He's a fighter, made some tough calls in the field, but don't expect anything more than that.'

She considered the offer, but not for long. She would not get a better offer than that: N-grade soldiers were galactically recognised for their skill both in the field and off of it, and of the two she needed a _fighter, _not a leader. She already had leaders, in herself and Garrus, and the rest of the ship's crew could fill in any of the other skills they might have picked up during training.

'Ok. Send me details of the batarian facility. I'll head there right away, and do it your way. Have your people ready for pickup by the end of tomorrow: I'll send somebody to get them.'

'That's not giving me much time, Shepard.' the admiral frowned again, and she was reminded just why she could not stay with the Alliance any longer. This kind of bureaucracy would drag her down. But she wanted the soldiers on board, before the Normandy was moved to Illium. Before the Alliance could trace them, if things went badly. She would allow them to keep in touch with the Alliance, but would not let them reveal her location, intentionally or otherwise.

The location of the Alliance operative suddenly popped up on a display below Hackett's face.

'I'm moving to do as you ask right after we're done talking, admiral. Do me the same courtesy.'

The man shook his head. 'Fine. They'll be waiting at Arcturus tomorrow. I'm giving you a great deal of trust on this, Shepard.'

Shepard straightened, again resisting the deeply ingrained urge to salute. She needed to maintain at least civil relations with the Alliance, but would not be subservient to them. 'Don't talk down to me, admiral. You're not the one personally exposing yourself to death or torture on _my _behalf.' She took a deep breath, feeling the anger kicked up by thoughts of the batarians begin to burn out. 'But... I appreciate you getting the people for me. It won't come back to bite you.'

She took a final look up at the hologram, and stepped forward to the console. 'I'll have your friend safe ASAP.'

She cut the call.

* * *

_**A/N: **Thank you Jay8008 and Tayg _


	23. Chapter 23

'EDI, where is Fai... Shepard?'

_She is currently in the armoury._

What could she be doing? I expected her perhaps to be exercising, or possibly checking up on some of the crew... but the armoury? It has been largely deserted since the Collector assault, and Jacob's demise, so busy have we been with the war preparations.

'Bring the elevator to the loft please, I would like to see her.'

_Very well, Doctor T'Soni. _

It is most unlike her to leave me alone like this - whilst I by no means _require _her presence to begin my day, nor she me awake to begin hers - her usual effort in staying with me until we are both awake is touching, and I did miss her this morning. I awoke earlier than usual - did her absence somehow disturb me? I have heard rare stories of asari developing deep bonds with their mates before, able to sense a faint shadow of their emotions even without a meld, but I have not felt such with Faith... would it only work when I sleep? For all of the wisdom the asari posses, there is still so much we do not know, both about ourselves and aliens.

The ship is still in its "morning" cycle, with the lights dimmed, and as EDI drops me off on the second deck, I am struck again by how _lonely _the ship is, without a full crew. I can see Joker in the bridge, legs propped up on the co-pilot's chair as he sleeps in his own, cap pulled down over his face, but otherwise the CIC is an eerie echo of what such a place should be; the effect amplified as the vast arrays of monitors still flicker with life, as if the ghosts of the dead crew are still at their stations.

Shaking my head to clear the ridiculous thoughts, I make the short journey to the armoury. Faith is standing before the pistol locker, bent over at the waist, rummaging into its depths, providing a rather tempting view as the well fitted uniform clings to -

'There you are!' It takes a moment to realise she is not talking to me as she straightens, then without looking turns away and strides to the weapon modification bench, clutching an unknown item.

'Faith?'

She stiffens, before turning, face brightening as it only does when she sees me.

'Oh, good morning!' She glances to her wrist, before catching my gaze again. Her upbeat greeting does not fool me: I can see her scars have deepened, and her eyes are flecked with red. She is angry, or upset with something. What has she been doing? 'Sorry, I thought you'd be asleep for a while yet.'

'No... what is wrong?' My bare feet make no noise as I cross the room to join her at the modification table. A pair of pistols and a sniper rifle are laid out on it, much smaller calibre than she usually prefers: in fact, she does not usually carry such a long range weapon at all, preferring instead to rely on her marksmanship using an assault rifle fitted with a scope.

'What are you doing?' My gut churns uncomfortably at the sight. She is preparing for combat.

'I've got a mission.' She finally straightens and faces me properly. 'It's the big one, Liara. Admiral Hackett from the Alliance called: he says one of his operatives found _proof _of the Reapers. I need to go and get his agent out from batarian prison, secure the artefact she found and we'll _finally _have what we need!'

I do not like the way she phrases her mission. '_You _need to go?'

Her gaze dips, and she turns back to the bench. 'Yes. The admiral said he'd help staff the Normandy if I went in quiet, alone, to avoid an incident with the batarians. We'll get our comms specialist, shuttle pilot and a damned good soldier this way.'

Going to the Alliance was my idea, but she sounds much too casual: she never approaches her work casually. 'I do not like the thought of you going alone into hostile territory.'

She glances up at me, before resuming her attaching of long, thick silencers to all of the weapons. 'Neither do I. I'd rather just get the artefact and get out, or go in against the batarians with guns blazing.'

'Have you been trained for this form of mission?'

'N7 training covers just about every type of mission you can imagine.'

And she excelled no doubt: at the point in her life, _all _that mattered was her work. But... _Goddess... _I do not relish the thought of her leaving me _again _on another dangerous mission. Her assault against the Collector base was hard to deal with, but this... she will be alone, facing down a race that _still _demonises her for her actions on Torfan.

Suddenly she sighs, and drops the weaponry she is holding, leaning forward over the bench. 'Damn. That's not what you're talking about, is it? I'm sorry, Liara, I really am. I'm not used to... this.'

'W... what do you mean?'

'It's going to be dangerous. _Very _dangerous. I'll be infiltrating the space of a species that hates me, and there'll be no backup. I can't risk them picking up any trace of a human ship, so I'm going to have to board a civilian transport there from outside the system, without them noticing I'm on board. I can probably sneak in without trouble, but actually rescuing the prisoner is not likely to be a quiet job. If I'm not careful I'll have to fight my way out, dragging a person behind me who's been starved and tortured, hijacking one of the batarians' own vehicles to escape.'

She glances up from the table, still clutching the edges. 'I'm not used to... having someone worry about me.'

I knew when I first acknowledged my feelings for Faith that she would never compromise her duty for me - indeed I encouraged her not to - but the thought of her leaving again still pains me. And I cannot even accompany her: She seems intent on honouring the Alliance admiral's request that she goes alone.

But I am relieved that she is being open about it with me. I would rather know all of the risks, so I can assist as best I can, than have her lie and give me false reassurance. The war will already put so many stresses on our relationship; neither of us will allow deception between us to be one of them. One of her hands is gripping the bench near me: I rest my own over it. 'Is there anything I can do? I suspect my information on batarian space is more comprehensive than the Alliance's.'

She looks up, and nods gratefully, shifting her hand to fully take my own. 'I'd like some information about the place she's being held. As much intel as you can find. Structural schematics. Duty shift rotations. Size, training, and equipment quality of the garrison.'

There it is, as always. Her clear minded _drive_, crushing down whatever doubts those around her have, crushing down the doubts I know constantly plague her thoughts and dreams. She steps back, looks at a problem and decides exactly what she needs to resolve it.

And with that, it gives hope. That if everybody does their part, they can pull through.

It is why she is the woman she is: everybody feels fear and doubts. _I _feel them, every time I look at a decision that needs making; the worry that I am doing the wrong thing, that I am causing more harm than good, that there might be a better way I just do not see.

But being able to work beyond the doubts and whispers, when the stakes are the life and death of a galaxy, to stand and lead... that takes something more than most people have.

'Of course, Faith.'

I can also hopefully organise a transport there for her that will not arouse suspicion, and I will investigate the possibilities of providing distractions during her escape: perhaps I can sabotage the facility's power, or fake an "accident" at the colony that demands the soldiers' attention so their priorities are torn. But I will ensure I can actually deliver those things before promising them.

Suddenly her eyes brighten, and I see a tiny smile tug at her lips, the small gesture relieving some of my own tension. 'Also, I don't think my usual armour is... suitable... for an infiltration mission. I think there's something else you could help with.'

* * *

The Normandy had always been a quiet ship: for the first few nights on board the SR1, Tali actually had trouble sleeping. But with the crew severely depleted, and the ship having been idly orbiting Hagalaz for some time now, engines running at minimum, the emptiness of the ship was all the more pronounced.

Shepard had given Tali the responsibility to look after the ship during the retrofits.

_Full _responsibility.

The ship would be docked, and not likely to encounter anything more serious than a dropped armour plate landing on somebody's foot or minor shield malfunction during testing, but she was still nervous. Her previous commands, on Freedom's Progress and Haestrom, had led to slaughters.

She would prefer Garrus, or _anybody _else take the role, but Shepard was trusting her. She would do her best... but something had occurred to her, something she needed to talk to somebody about. Shepard, Liara and Garrus were down on the Broker's ship again, preparing to send Shepard off on a mission which the trio were hoping could finally kick start the galaxy into action against the Reapers. Ken and Gabby would be too busy to do what she wanted, and Doctor Chakwas and Kelly did not have the right knowledge.

That left the Normandy's pilot, who seemed to be laughing maniacally in the cockpit as she approached.

'Did you see that EDI? Damn, they didn't know what hit them! Ha I bet the grease monkeys wouldn't be pleased if I actually did that, it'd take them _days _to fix the engine!'

_I saw. The manoeuvre was reckless and dangerous, pushing the ship far beyond recommended safety parameters. I do not believe it would work outside of simulations._

_Oh Keelah, what's he doing to my ship?_

'You said that about my little ship-pong stunt through the Omega 4 Relay, and look how that turned out!' Joker responded, far too cheerfully in Tali's opinion. He had actually _dented _the Normandy's hull by bouncing off some debris to shift the ship's momentum at a pace no engines could manage, and it had taken her _hours _of hard, uncomfortable labour to fix.

_You suffered eight simple fractures, one compound fracture and a severe compression fracture._

The pilot made a flippant gesture, as Tali simply watched the pair argue about what seemed to be a successful combat simulation.

'Bah, details. I won!'

_Your "details" concluded with me seeing you naked in the med-bay, Jeff._

'So... a win for you as well, right?'

Deciding to interrupt before things got _really _creepy, Tali cleared her throat loudly, and Joker started in his chair, before spinning around.

'Oh, hey Tali! Ah... how long have you been standing there?' The human at least had the good grace to look embarrassed, and Tali felt a smile pull across her face.

'Long enough, Joker. Long enough.' She said, shaking her head with amusement.

'EDI! Why didn't you tell me?' the pilot asked. Not to the small blue hologram, Tali noticed - Joker was clearly becoming more comfortable with the true nature of the AI that ran the ship.

_I believed Tali and Legion would find watching our dialogue beneficial to their own relationship._

Both organics fell silent at the words.

Joker simply looked awkward, flushing a slightly deeper red... she knew the pilot _flirted _with the ship's AI fairly often, and was probably imagining some very inappropriate things.

But her own worries were different.

She tried - and she thought she was finally getting somewhere with her feelings - but she _still _could not feel comfortable with the two AIs conversing, referring to each other, as if they were _people... _but were they? They had such distinct personalities, just like people did. EDI liked jokes and had enough characteristics, voice modulator notwithstanding, that the crew, herself included, generally accepted it as female. Legion was more practical, and showed a deep desire to learn more about organics.

When she was just interacting with one of them, she found herself able to talk to them, to debate, to even at times let her guard down and _enjoy _their presence.

But...

Hearing the two talk to each other _still _seemed to undo all of her supposed "progress" in accepting AIs, sending worst case scenarios and worries through her mind. Quarians distrusted AIs. It was something drilled into every child from the moment they were old enough to speak, to program a computer, to pick up a weapon. Would she never be free of the prejudices of the people who cast her out?

'Erm...' Joker said quietly, before shifting in his chair. 'Was there something you wanted, Tali?'

She clenched her hands before her, and nodded. 'Shepard's left me in command of the Normandy while its on Illium.'

'Yeah, I'm glad she chose you and not me to be honest, the last time I was in charge the ship got _boarded, _while I was _drunk _might I add,I unshackled an AI and most of the crew got abducted. Hardly a great track record.'

She bit down a retort about her own track record of command, and tried to remind herself that he probably did not know a lot of her history - the human was just being as sarcastic as ever.

'Erm, yes. Well, I don't mind,' _much... _'but while we're on Illium I think I'll need an... Ambassador.'

It was a rough translation of a word many quarians knew - a word, and job title, unique to their culture because no other species required such a person.

Joker raised a brow, and leaned back into his chair. 'An _Ambassador?_'

Not liking the dynamic of standing before the seated man, Tali slipped past Joker's chair and sank into the co-pilot's seat. 'Yes. We'll be on Illium, and on Illium...'

She took a deep breath. She should be used to this by now, be able to admit it to her friends, but even after so long, she wasn't. She just needed to get it over with. 'Quarians are treated like dirt. If I go to the market to buy something, even if I've got credits, all I'll see is the shop owners quickly putting up "no quarians" signs in their doors. If I try to talk to one of the workers, they'll think I'm going to pickpocket them. The company upgrading the ship probably won't even talk to me.'

'Sons of bitches...' Joker looked awkwardly away, shaking his head. She was glad he did not offer any empty words of condolence: that was not why she was there.

'It's not your fault, Joker. But anyway, if I have someone with me, a human, it means people will take me a bit more seriously. They'll _probably _think I'm your indentured servant, but they also know that quarians know what they are talking about most of the time, so as long as I actually get what I want...'

She trailed off, and looked over to Joker, who was now staring at her. 'And you think a human on crutches, hobbling around everywhere, worried he's going to break a shin if he slips on a curb, will somehow command more respect?'

'Yes!' She bristled. '_Anyone _is better than... than a _quarian_.' she whispered the last word, before moving on.

'We have to do it all the time, on our pilgrimages, when the Flotilla needs supplies.' She tried to push past the shameful admission, forcing a casualness she did not feel into her voice. 'I probably won't need to do it more than a couple of times, but... will you help?'

'I...' Tali did not think she had ever seen Joker look so out of place; even when he had awkwardly apologised for his part in Shepard's death, he had done so with a hint of his usual sarcasm. But now his voice was deadly serious. 'I'm not sure why you're choosing me over Ken or the Doc or someone, but sure, I'll do it. Are you sure you don't want to say something to Shepard? Maybe she'd let Garrus stay?'

She shook her head. 'Oh, no, the last thing she needs right now is me getting her worried about something like this, and she needs Garrus on the Broker's ship. Like I said I shouldn't have to do it very often: Liara will be getting us professionals to retrofit the ship who can work on their own initiative, and we can get most supplies delivered, and if it's _really _important they can just call Shepard. But...'

'I already said yes, Tali.' Joker shook his head with a smile.

'T... thanks. For not, you know... asking questions, or anything.'

The pilot gestured to the crutches by his chair. 'I know what it's like to need help Tali; you don't need people pretending to feel sorry for you, you just want them to do what you ask.'

She nodded appreciatively, suddenly a lot more glad she had asked Joker rather than one of the other engineers. 'I'll leave you and EDI to your games.'

She stood and walked away, as Joker gave her a casual wave.

She _hated _having to do that, to put the burden and shame of her species onto somebody else. Before she met Shepard she once had to _pay _somebody to be her Ambassador; when she had approached C-sec with her data about the geth on Eden Prime. They had still not believed her, even with the bored looking asari at her side "vouching" for her.

[We regret the geth's part in your current predicament.]

Legion's voice, the artificial tones feigning organic emotions, quietly sounded by her ears. She slowed as she passed the large table in the centre of the CIC, but did not stop, instead feeling a bitter resentment bubble up through her.

'I don't need your pity, Legion.' She summoned the lift, hoping to just end the conversation.

[We do not understand. Despite extensive observation, many nuances of organic interaction are still foreign to us. We were attempting to display empathy.]

'_Empathy?_' She instinctively began to spin on the spot, trying to look at the machine, so she could _glare _at it, or _anything._

But she couldn't. Because it was _inside _her suit, always there, and she could never even have a single moment without it knowing every tiniest thing about her. Tali's breathing grew laboured, and she did not even try to keep the venom from her words. '_You_ were the ones who forced us into this situation! If you _empathised _you would give us back our homeworld!'

It was the geths' fault she had to do what she just did, go crawling to another person just to have somebody else be _civil _to her.

And she had to do it in front of Legion. Because she had accepted it into her suit, into her very essence. She could not hide the knowledge of just how thoroughly the machines had destroyed her people, she could not even admit her shame to another person in private.

[We apologise if we offended. However, we have already discussed with you that geth would be open to negotiations with the Creators, if they ceased their default policy of hostility against us.]

'Keelah, Legion, will you just _shut up!_'

She jabbed a finger to the large "3" button in the elevator, not wanting to talk to _any _AI right now, - she just needed to work_, _to lose herself in the endless welding and soldering and wiring that was still ongoing in Liara's office, so she could just forget the last few minutes, forget that Legion was _still _there, still inside, able to see everything, to know everything, even her damned heartbeat.

She leaned back onto the rail, feeling a strange ache in her chest.

It was disgusting, in a way; nobody, not even her parents had been able to _know _her so intimately, and she could not even share her _face _with Garrus without risking her life, how was that fair? That this _geth _should know her so well, when no others could?

Tali suddenly felt faint, and clutched the rail behind her to steady herself.

_Wha-_

She drew in a deep breath to-

The air barely touched her.

Rather than filling, refreshing, the air felt thin and left her lungs burning, crying out for more.

She tried...

_Don't panic! There must be something wrong, a minor glitch in the air filters reducing oxygen levels in my atmosphere, or..._

She pulled up her suit feed on her omni-tool, determined to find out what was wrong, but there was nothing. All readouts were normal, including oxygen content in the sterilised air flowing through her helmet. Her vision grew fuzzy.

'Legion!' she gasped, drawing in another breath that ended all too soon, leaving her wanting, _needing_ more, but panic overtook, and her short breaths did nothing to relieve the burning.

[What is wrong Tali? Vital signs undergoing minor fluctuation. We detect no malfunctions in your suit.]

'I... I can't... brea-' Her head began to spin, the bland colours of the elevator walls fading together, and the beating of her heart felt like a deep hammer pounding her chest, almost knocking her off her feet-

[Warning: we are about to manipulate suit atmosphere and oxygen flow, the sensation may be uncomfortable.]

Suddenly she felt air _forced _into her lungs, and after a moment of discomfort she stopped resisting and let the suit do its work, before pushing the air from her lungs on her own when she thought she could take no more. The next tentative breath filled her lungs as normal, and her pounding heart began to slow.

She was ok.

_What just happened? Did Legion...?_

Taking long, deep, delicious breaths, she frantically reviewed her suit schematics on her omni-tool. There was no recorded error in her breathing systems. What was wrong with her? Did... did Legion just try to hurt her?

_But he didn't, he _helped _me, by doing what he did!_

Tali stumbled out of the elevator, and slumped down into one of the chairs in the mess, clasping her trembling hands before her.

[Tali, are you well? Should I alert Doctor Chakwas?]

'No! No, Legion, just, be quiet, please...'

What just happened? Her suit feeds did not indicate anything was wrong... was it her? She had panicked, but that would not explain... She checked again. Nothing wrong with the air filters, or _anything_! Had Legion done it, and manipulated the suit readings as well?

But if he did, why had he been the one to force air into her lungs, breathing life into her? Asking about her wellbeing?

_I... I don't..._

'Hey, Tali!'

Startled, she looked up, seeing the grubby face of Engineer Daniels smiling from underneath a raised welding visor, poking out from Miranda's old room. 'We could sure use your help in here!'

She took a final glance at her omni-tool.

_Still nothing... _

Swallowing back a heavy lump in her throat, she stood, nodding to Gabriella. 'I... I'll be through in a moment!'

The human engineer disappeared back into Liara's half-constructed office.

_What can I... do I tell the doctor? Or Garrus? Or... Shepard? What if it was Legion? What if it _wasn't... _Keelah, what is wrong with me?_

Work. Work would distract her.

Trying to push what just happened from her mind, she followed Gabby into the large room, picked up a torch, and got to work.

* * *

'I feel ridiculous.' Shepard spun around, stretching to look back over her shoulder, and Garrus chuckled as Liara rather obviously eyed up the human, as her body pressed against the thin material.

'Well...' He drawled, leaning back onto one of the cargo crates in the hold of the Broker's ship. 'Were you planning on fighting the batarians, or seducing them?'

Shepard, apparently unwilling to wear her usual heavy armour as she infiltrated the batarian compound, had acquired some lightweight asari commando gear, and had spent close to half an hour with Liara trying to squeeze into it. The dark fabric seemed to cling to every single curve the human possessed, as if it were designed as much to appeal to the eye as it was for protection... and knowing the aesthetically-conscious asari, that was probably true.

If he was into humans, the sight would no doubt be as appealing as Liara's roving eyes suggested, but humans had always been much too _soft _for his liking - even well built humans such as Shepard - with no delicious edges to speak of, ridiculously wide waists, and those weird squishy things attached to the chest that everybody seemed to think were so fascinating just looked to him like awkward inconveniences.

It was something that worried him, about his slowly budding relationship with Tali. While he was in the quarian's presence, he felt his pulse race just as it did in the presence of an attractive turian... but he could not pinpoint the cause. He could think of nothing specific about her that physically aroused him, but that did not stop his body reacting anyway, at that lilting chuckle, still tinged with a hint of shyness. When she began to talk about the Normandy's engine, which still had her excited, the knowledge and passion flowing through every word. What if, if they ever got to that stage, he found himself not excited by her body but, well... just _intrigued_, and could not perform?

_Spirits... there's a war on, Vakarian. Focus._

'Ignore him.' The asari stepped in closer to Shepard, clipping a large shield generator to the human's belt: one he recognised as extremely powerful, but with a much shorter life than the ones they usually used. If Shepard was not planning on getting into any prolonged firefights, it was a good choice. 'You look wonderful.'

Shepard smirked at the asari before moving away, again inspecting herself. 'I don't care how it looks... it feels like it'll tear if I move too fast. Does it actually offer any kind of protection?'

Liara shook her head with a smile, and moved back to the stash of weapons Shepard had prepared. She picked up the pair of M-3 Predators, both with silencers attached... one of them also fitted with a bulky attachment Garrus recognised as containing tranquiliser rounds. 'Of course it does, we would not wear such a thing otherwise. It is much stronger than it feels. The intelligent material hardens when impacted by fast moving objects, and will provide reasonable protection against anything the shield generator does not stop outright.'

Liara handed the pistols to Shepard, who fiddled with the small interface on the bottom of each hilt, killing the small lights running along the sides, before shipping one on each thigh - in physical holsters rather than the usual magnetic clips, whose gentle hum might give away her position.

'Not that I want you under any kind of weapon fire at all, it is supposed to be a _stealth _mission.' Liara continued, returning to pick up the small sniper rifle Shepard had chosen: a modified M-97 Viper... modified to be even smaller and lighter than the gun usually was. It paled in comparison to his preferred M-98 Widow, but he knew Shepard was _almost _as good a shot as he, so wasn't concerned... about her firepower at least.

The asari was clearly worried for Shepard - as was he. Solo missions were always dangerous, but one in batarian space, breaking _into _one of their infamous torture prisons... if it was anybody other than Shepard, he would have said it was suicide. But the human had an uncanny knack of always coming back, and for all of his bragging, he had honestly never seen a more deadly fighter than his leader.

Shepard took Liara's hand as the asari handed her the sniper rifle. 'I'll be careful.'

The pair locked eyes, and... _spirits!... _he could almost feel something physical pass between them then, as if his very _existence _had suddenly ceased in their world, as if they shared themselves in just a touch and a glance. The moment was over before he could even be sure it had happened, and he actually drew in something like a relieved breath as Liara turned back to the weapon bench, breaking the contact. 'Good.'

'Did you get the information on Bahak?' Shepard asked, and Garrus pulled out the datapad Liara had given him earlier.

'Yeah,' Garrus answered, looking down the vital information. 'Not much there other than Aratoht, a medium sized batarian colony, population approximately three hundred thousand. Mostly mining operations for heavy metals, both on the planet and the nearby asteroid belt, but there's a few military compounds there too... strange, since it's just about the furthest occupied system from the galactic core there is. Your operative is being held in one of them: Liara was able to narrow down which. It's staffed by-'

'Give me a breakdown of the population.' The coldness in Shepard's voice stopped Garrus' report, and he looked up to see the woman fixing him with a piercing gaze... one that had his nerves on edge. He had seen how the woman had reacted on Omega to the batarians, to the slavers, and he knew what she was asking. He glanced at Liara, who nodded at him sadly.

The turian took a deep breath, and pulled up the relevant figure on the datapad. 'Ninety thousand free. An estimated two hundred and fifteen thousand... _other._'

The word stuck in his mouth. Of all the crimes in the galaxy, slavery was one of the most horrific. During his time as Archangel, he had preferred nothing to taking down a slaving ring, despite the fact that more often than not the batarians executed the slaves before he could rescue them. Simply knowing they could not do it again, was enough.

It had to be enough, because he could give his team nothing more.

'Two hundred and fifteen thousand...' Shepard spoke through clenched teeth, fists curled tightly, and he could see her eyes glisten with the eerie red lights of her resurrection. 'How many batarian?'

'Ahm...' He scrolled through the data. 'Around one hundred and eighty thousand.'

She took a step closer to him. 'And the rest?'

'Faith...' Liara was there instantly, a soft hand on Shepard's arm. 'That is not why you are going.'

'I...' Shepard pulled her arm away from Liara, hard, but he could see there was no malice in the action - just a desire every soldier knew, to keep things to themselves, but when Liara took the human's hand she did not resist a second time. 'I know. But it should be. Lights out!'

She called the last words loudly and clearly, and the room plunged into darkness.

Shepard had done a good job killing all of the usual residual lights on her person... other than those she could not control. He saw Liara's eyes reflected in the soft red glow coming from Shepard's face, full of concern.

He had seen so much of Shepard, when she was happy, unhappy, in pain, amused... but never this. Her emotions usually seemed fleeting, ghosting across her face before being hidden beneath the stoic exterior once again. But now, imagined or not, the lights seemed to throb with an angry pulse, the human's feelings about slavers tearing across her very being, caught and reflected by the one being in the galaxy who seemed to be able to properly break through her steely shell, echoing nothing other than acceptance and care... and a sadness, to see her partner in such pain.

'Do...' His word cracked the oppressive silence in the room, drawing the attention of the pair. 'Do you want to borrow some war paint?'

Shepard's mask of anger broke, and he let out his tension in a deep sigh of relief. The human smiled, shaking her head slightly. 'I think that's a damned good idea, Garrus.'

* * *

_**A/N: **Thank you Jay8008 and Tayg._


	24. Chapter 24

_**A/N: **__Advance warning: this is a harsh, violent, chapter. I'll be looking at the batarian torture facility on Aratoht, and some of the experiences in Faith's past, including Torfan._

_Thank you to Jay8008 for the immeasurable help with this chapter._

* * *

Faith scowled as a resounding crack echoed through her senses, and the thick clouds blocking out the stars above her head began to pound hard, warm rain onto her balaclava-clad head, spotting the lenses of her infra-red goggles.

The small readout in the corner of her vision told of the discomfort ahead. She was still two and a half kilometres from the facility. Two and a half kilometres of dark, dense plant life, not quite trees but not quite simple plants either, in the uncomfortably hot rain.

_At least these leathers are waterproof..._

Liara had arranged a transport to bring her to the planet, but in order to avoid suspicion it had not travelled anywhere near the facility; instead dropping her seven kilometres away: the closest the pilot - a volus trader who was carrying supplies to the colony, bribed by Liara - could get her without alerting the ultra-paranoid batarians that something was suspicious.

The thick flora surrounding her - invasive plant life designed to increase the oxygen levels on the planet - was an unwelcome reminder of her N7 training. Leading a small group of soldiers through the rainforests of Brazil with insufficient supplies and little sleep, defusing the tension of the men was as much a part of the test as the physical trial.

It seemed like a different time. There had been so little of her then: just duty, fighting, and an _endless _drive to do better. After the batarians burned her home, slaughtered her parents, enslaved her sisters and so much more of the colony she had retreated in on herself, not allowing anybody close. She used the memory of her mother, a gory mess where her chest should be; of her father, his head almost entirely disintegrated by a batarian's shotgun, to push herself to her limits and further, so she could save others from the same horrors she went through. She had been scouted for the special forces early in her career, after excelling both in her training and several assignments.

She hacked through a particularly stubborn patch of weeds with a machete she had brought for the occasion, the blade blackened to hide any shine, and thought back to her Alliance career... but always kept her senses aware, despite the darkness and pounding rain.

_One of her first missions was a routine protection duty for a trading vessel, carrying important cargo to a colony in the Attican Traverse. Just eighteen years old, she was merely a soldier stationed on the ship, so the Alliance could claim their ships were protected. None of them expected action, the merchants did not expect action, Alliance command did not expect action._

_They had been boarded by a pirate gang. The ship's engines were crippled, and a huge cruiser had pulled alongside. Faith had been terrified, as the ship shuddered when the pirates melted a hole in the hull to mount their boarding tunnel, as her lieutenant led the ship's small complement to fight them off. _

_Pirates usually demanded ships surrender their cargo under threat of destruction, but these had simply boarded, intent on wiping out the crew and stealing the precious metals in the hold... and most likely, the ship itself._

_It was that day Faith killed her first foe. And second. And third, and fourth, and fifth._

_None of the privates had seen real combat before. Their lieutenant was only a few years older than she was, and had seen action, but not anything like this. Tight corridors. Flickering lights. Breached hull leaving areas of the ship open to the vacuum. Panicked merchants. Vicious pirates. _

_The first was a batarian. The monster had shot one of her teammates, sprawling him to the ground with blood pumping from his leg. When the creature turned its gaze on her, unarmoured head scowling to reveal rows of filthy, pointed teeth, she had frozen. Everything she had been taught fled her mind, replaced by terror... and horror. It was one of the creatures that ruined her life, that pulled her into a galaxy full of pain and death that she had little wish to know. She had not seen a live one in person. Her arms would not respond. Her eyes widened. Her legs trembled and nearly dropped her to the ground._

_For less than a second._

_Her parents' ruined corpses flashed across her mind, and for the first time she felt the ice cold anger that was now a constant companion in the field of battle. Before he could bring his weapon to bear, she perforated his head with a rifle shot that landed right in the centre of his eyes, a rifle shot that sprayed the contents of his skull onto the wall behind him. Two more batarians, a turian and an asari fell at her hands that day, the latter breaking Faith's arm with a devastating biotic attack before falling to a barrage of one-armed pistol fire, before an Alliance warship had arrived and driven the pirates off._

She had been commended for her actions, for the ferocity with which she turned the tide of battle. Most soldiers, she learned that day, did not... _could _not, instinctively shoot to kill. Other than the briefest moment before the batarian, she had done so five times.

She was a killer.

It was something she accepted about herself with surprising ease.

Had she always been that way? One of those few able to take a life and not have their own destroyed by it? Was the rude little girl who was always coming home dirty, to her mother's chastisement and father's amusement, just a façade?

Or was it the batarians? Had they given birth to that killer, the day they attacked Mindoir?

If so, they had come to regret it. The Alliance had quietly harnessed her hatred, sending her on over a dozen operations to combat batarian slavery and piracy - knowing she would fight them with a brutal ferocity, but also that she never lost her professional edge to anger.

And now she was sneaking through a forest on one of their planets, towards one of their horrific facilities.

_Not _to destroy them.

Faith wanted to. So _very _badly. She would burn the facility to the ground, for no more reason than its very existence.

As she finally caught a glimpse of the place, as her path crested a hill. At the bottom of a natural bowl lay a squat compound, several lights glimmering through the darkness. She could see it, in her minds eye. The flora in the valley burning, sending plumes of acrid smoke up into the rainy night. The facility reduced to rubble, its inhabitants crushed. She wanted to see it utterly destroyed, for all the pain the place had ever caused... for all the other suffering it represented.

_Not today..._

Gritting her teeth, she began the slow descent.

* * *

'Ugh... batarian filth.'

Faith tried to make herself feel somewhat better as she crawled through _actual _batarian filth. Thigh and elbow deep batarian filth, in a pipe with a three foot diameter.

_They haven't even __**tried **__to develop modern sewage..._

Infiltrating a building in the age she lived in was always a difficult task. Modern security systems, whilst they _could _be overridden, made traditional entrances like doors or even windows much too dangerous. Most had alarms and sensors fitted, with complex electronic locks that fed any opening to a central security server that a single failed hack would alert. Added to the incredibly tough materials used to make bulkheads and reinforced glass, she had only cast a brief glance across the bunker's above-ground entrances before scouting other options.

The pipe she was currently crawling through was the most obvious entrance, if the least attractive. It opened approximately quarter of a mile from the bunker, and though she had to use a substantial amount of her omni-tool's charge to summon a laser to cut away the metal grate, it was unguarded and without sensors. Evidently the batarians either did not think anybody could access their facility this way, or they hoped the stench would keep any intruders out.

The latter seemed more likely, as Faith, long used to the stink of battle and burning flesh and ruptured innards, forced down the urge to vomit once more.

At very least, the asari uniform was not porous, and the waste she was wading through was not touching her skin. She was _already _not going to be able to remove the fetor from her nose for days, the last thing she needed was the knowledge that the disgusting slush had soaked through against her legs and arms. No amount of showering could remove that kind of knowledge.

If she could not hijack a batarian vehicle, she would have to get her prisoner out this way, as well. Could she handle it? Alliance operatives were tough, and Shepard imagined that one who worked as a lone operative deep in batarian space was tougher than most.

But Faith also knew what batarians did to their prisoners. They had nothing even approaching a Prisoner of War code, treating anybody unlucky enough not to die like _property, _be it for labour, sport, or pleasure. Doctor Kenson would be in a terrible state, physically and mentally, when Faith finally found her.

_Scum._

She had seen the very worst of the race, at Torfan.

_She should have had the Alliance vaporise the whole damned moon._

_They had already suffered heavy losses as they fought through the outlying buildings, with the batarians fighting for every step. Every building taken had been paid for in blood, and the brutality did not end there. The batarians had taken to setting traps as they retreated to the bunker at the heart of the compound; mines that shredded the legs and abdomens of soldiers who tripped them. The slavers purposefully designed the explosives and shrapnel to cause maximum carnage... without killing the targets instantly._

_The wounded soldiers had been a drain on resources, and the mental health, of those left._

_It had driven Major Kyle mad. He had tried to order a retreat after yet another man was reduced to a screaming mess of ruined flesh, doomed to a slow death as she and the others tried in vain to slather the remains of his legs and stomach with medigel, but after several minutes of Kyle frantically ranting into the radio at Command, Shepard had received a private call on her own personal comm system. She was to relieve the major of command, and not retreat. She was to see it through, and wipe the batarians out._

_Faith had smiled grimly. Orders were orders._

_The Alliance said that the operation was not only to wipe out the slaving operations in the sector, but also to rescue the hundreds of slaves they had on the moon, mining it for minerals deep beneath the surface. _

_She knew that was simply unrealistic. Batarians implanted their slaves' skulls with devices that not only placated any extreme feelings, leaving little more than an easily manipulated husk - the device also carried a small explosive that the batarians had little hesitation in detonating for any number of reasons... to stop them rebelling as an external threat approached being one of them. _

_The slaves were likely dead long before she broke into the bunker. But the Alliance could not be known to have bombed a building containing "innocents"... and the brass did not like bad PR. _

_So she led the final assault. _

_And in those moments, her life was once again shattered._

_She had long since given up hope of seeing her sisters again. Of seeing her youngest, Grace, who was always smiling and laughing. Of seeing Joy, shy and bookish, with a devastatingly quick wit she was often too shy to show to those other than her closest friends and family._

_Most human slaves, the Alliance told her, in particular young females, were sold to rich batarians deep in their own space. For purposes that still had Faith's scars aching just to think of. At the time she had simply hoped - a horrific, disgusting hope born of desperation - that her sisters had either died or been driven mad, and were not aware of whatever they were going through._

_But as she approached the final batarian holdout, the large facility that led down to the mines, the slavers had dragged a dozen human slaves to the roof, put guns to their heads, and shouted for the soldiers to stand down. Pretty human female slaves, to tug at the heartstrings of the soldiers, no doubt._

_Entertainment, for the batarians stationed there, because they were far too skinny to work as labour._

_Faith cast a quick eye over the slaves. They were all dirty, dishevelled, eyes cast downwards. Trying to put their plight from their mind, she looked back down to the attack plans she had sketched out. Their faces flashed through her mind. One in particular stuck. Second to the left was a young woman with blonde hair, and strong features showing through her pallid skin. Strong features... like her own. Little Gracie had inherited their father's blonde hair whilst Joy and herself took their mother's dark brown, almost black. Grace was only ten when they took her, eight years previously. The pieces fell together, all too slowly. Grace had become a woman... or a broken shadow of one._

_It had taken her a second too long to realise. _

_It had taken her a second too long, to do anything._

_It had taken her a second too long, because as soon as she looked up again, the batarians shot Grace. Put a pistol to her head and sprayed her brains across the woman standing next to her, who did not even flinch or look up from the ground, so deeply conditioned was she._

_Something broke in her, that day. Something she was not even sure she still left after Mindoir burned. Some faint whisper of hope, of innocence, was extinguished and had her retreating in on herself even more than she did previously._

_She still tried, until then. Made something of an effort to socialise, attempted to join in the banter as best she could. _

_She had even gone on a date with one of her fellow N7 candidates, before the training began. She could not remember his name... Hiroti? Hiroshi? He dropped out before he achieved N1, along with two thirds of the class. He was a nice man, but the date was a disaster - stilted conversation (she had no interests of note, no history she wanted to talk about), a bad restaurant choice, jokes she needed him to explain three times. But she had tried. She'd worn a skirt._

_After Torfan she stopped trying, and started pretending. Pretending was easier. Jokes and conversation were easier when she approached them as mission objectives: to "bond" with her soldiers, make them feel more comfortable around her._

_When the batarians had finished shooting the helpless women and began spraying bullets down to the soldiers hunkering in the previously batarian-occupied buildings, Faith Shepard ordered the attack. Three hours later, somebody called "Butcher" for the first time._

_And because she had stopped trying, she only pretended to care._

* * *

Grimacing at the filth dripping from her arms, Faith summoned her omni-tool in the cramped space of the pipe, and felt a rush of relief. Only ten more metres.

She crawled the remaining distance, then once again summoned the laser-cutter on her omni-tool and began cutting away a large section of pipe from above her.

The metal fell down onto her, and she carefully shifted it before poking her head, mercifully kept out of the waste she had crawled through, out to inspect her surroundings. Just as she expected, she was in a dank pit, with no lights or signs of technology other than the pipe she, holding in a sigh as her muscles finally stretched out, quickly vacated.

_Too much to wish for a pool or something..._

It was a serious concern: the foul scent could well give her away if she was not careful, but to her dismay the only water she could see was clinging to the damp walls.

The green-ish tint to her vision gave the cave around her an eerie air. Batarians liked underground facilities, digging deep like worms, as if burying their filthy practices made them somehow less foul. Most batarian bunkers were built over a series of caves, in which they would keep supplies.

Brushing the worst of the foul sludge from her, she took stock of her surroundings. She was in one of the deepest caves beneath the facility, and a single exit stood appealingly at the far end of the roughly hewn cavern.

But first she had to make sure she was invisible.

She lifted the goggles from her face, and saw nothing. There was the tiniest residual light coming through the exit, but otherwise her cover was still good. Holding a hand to her face, she saw a faint glow reflected on it, but by shutting one eye, then the other, she could see it was from the machines in her eyes rather than those across her face, which were daubed in thick black war paint.

_Why did Cerberus make them glow anyway?_

Nodding to herself, she pulled her opaque goggles back on. She was as close to invisible as she was likely to get. She just needed to find a way to wash the filth from herself and she could begin scouring the prison for Doctor Kenson... and to that end, she had the weather on her side. The compound was made up of two separate buildings, and she had emerged in one whilst her quarry was in the other - she had to pass outside, and hopefully the pounding rain would cleanse her.

_Just need to get out of this place first._

She encountered no other batarians as she made her way out of the caves. She was not especially surprised: she was _deep _in batarian territory and she had not expected them to be actively patrolling the place. There was no threat to them here.

Or so they thought.

The silence throughout the caves was oppressive. Her footsteps seemed impossibly loud, despite her careful footing and the flexible material covering her feet. Her breathing sounded heavy and laboured, despite Faith _knowing _that it was nearly silent. Her heartbeat was a drum, beating against the walls of the caves.

She reached the end of the subterranea, and emerged into a large concrete room, crates lining the walls and a high roof that spoke of a warehouse. She stopped, listening intently for any sign of batarians. Liara's intel told her there were twenty batarian soldiers stationed here, and anything up to fifteen "other" free batarians, who occasionally came over from the colony as administrators, officials and the like. No slaves worked at the facility; it was used for _adjustment_ of new captures, and the slaves themselves were shipped to the colony to work the mines. If she was lucky, most of the population of the compound would be asleep.

Despite the silence, and her thermal readouts showing that there were no significant lifesigns nearby, she stayed low, moving slowly and carefully through the crates towards the exit that provided the shortest route with the most cover to cross the courtyard into the prison - the exit she had memorised from the schematics Liara provided her.

Suddenly, she stopped in her tracks. She heard a muttering, in that deep, raspy voice the batarians had, and her goggles picked up a very faint heat signature. There was one, or at most two, batarians, not close, but nearby... most likely in the small, walled off security room she knew was close by her destination.

She cautiously continued her approach, and began to pick up traces of the words being muttered. There were indeed two of them, and they were talking about humans.

'...thinks the humans...'

'... damned... hate...'

As she got closer, Faith scowled as they ceased any _useful _conversation, and began talking about the relative merits of free women and slave women as sexual partners.

_Partners... there's no partnership there. _

Resisting the urge to burst into the small office and rip them apart, she ducked beneath the low wall below the window and snuck past, forcing herself to listen to one lament that while his girlfriend was more enthusiastic, she would not let him do some of the things he did to his slave - just in case he happened to mention something useful.

He didn't.

_Monster._

'I don't do that stuff with mine.'

'Huh. I've heard about your little thing about your property. Don't see what the problem is, you own her. You're missing out, trust me.'

'I just prefer it when they're into it, you know?'

'Just _tell _her to be "into it"!

_Monster!_

Forcing herself away, she vacated the large building through a wide loading hatch, and after ensuring she was clear of any hostiles, allowed the warm rain to finally wash away the slightly crusting filth on the arms and legs of her dark uniform, scrubbing frantically with gloved hands as she crouched behind the loading machinery.

When she was satisfied that she was reasonably clean, and hopefully stench-free, she assessed her surroundings. There were a few bright lights illuminating the paved paths in the small courtyard, but otherwise the exposed area was a mess of hastily parked ground and air vehicles, untidy stacks of crates and vicious looking barbed wire. She could see a single batarian slowly patrolling the perimeter, currently across the courtyard from her, but his trudging footsteps, bowed head and holstered gun told Shepard that he was bored, and she could either evade or neutralise him with ease.

A pair stood by the main entrance to the facility, both in a security booth similar to the one she just passed, and though they looked more alert that the one patrolling, likely due to them not being out in the rain, they were facing steadfastly _outwards_, towards the vast expanse of Aratoht beyond the prison.

_Sloppy._

She ducked into the shadows, and made her way over to the prison side of the facility.

They had not been sloppy at Torfan.

_The compound was made up of a series of smaller buildings parading before a central, heavily fortified bunker that led down to the mines, built into the very cliff itself. The outlying buildings were relatively well defended, being mostly barracks for the slavers that plagued the nearby systems, and as first Kyle - and later Shepard - had purged them one by one, losing their own men at a rate the Alliance would have in any other situation deemed unacceptable, the batarians had retreated to the bunker, fighting with a viciousness that made up for the lack of finesse with pure brutality. Illegal weapons. Traps. Slaves strapped up with explosives and used as suicide bombers. All the while as the Alliance soldiers were peppered with sniper fire from the bunker._

_Morale had been terrible by the time they cleared the final barracks. Kyle had been a charismatic leader, and the soldiers __**liked **__him. _

_They did not like the dark armoured N7 commando with cold eyes who had relieved him of command, voice dead and uncaring as she gave precise and clipped orders._

_She had manipulated them. They should have been angry at her, at Alliance command, for ordering the ground assault. But she worked them into a fierce rage against the batarians, who were killing and maiming their friends, who were executing slaves because they were scared that the Alliance was going to win._

'_Because we will win! For too long these monsters... these __**cowards**__... have destroyed our colonies, enslaved our civilians, taken our children for their own sick pleasures. Even now, they try to scare us, by executing helpless women rather than fight us!'_

_She had not told them her own sister was one of them. They thought her heartless enough already._

'_For too long, they've fled rather than face us head on. They use the tactics of a __**coward**__, and it ends __**today**__. We will prove ourselves worthy of the uniform. We will fight for those who can't fight for themselves. We will fight for what is right. We will destroy these creatures, wipe them from the face of this God-forsaken moon, and go home as __**heroes**__!'_

_Most of her men led a frontal assault, blowing a huge section away from the wall with high intensity explosives then slowly pushing forwards that way, drawing out the hundreds of batarians in the place. Meanwhile, she took the most vicious soldiers from the squad and snuck in through an underground passage she found in one of the barracks, and tore the place apart from the inside. They had stalked through the tight corridors like wraiths, slaughtering through those batarians not drawn to the frontal assault with brutal efficiency, the combat as much hand to hand as it was firefights due to the winding, labyrinthine nature of the facility._

_When her small infiltration team had finally reached the munitions deposit, Shepard had given the order to blow it. Telling the distraction and infiltration teams to pull back, the explosions shook the very foundations of the facility, pouring fire through the corridors, rupturing supports and tearing the building - and the remaining batarians - apart. Afterwards, Shepard finally rejoined the distraction team. More than forty had been killed or seriously injured during Shepard's absence, to add to the dozens already dead as they cleansed the rest of the compound. The final count of Alliance dead or disfigured was eighty eight. None of those she led inside were hurt, other than Shepard herself, who was clutching one arm which had both a fractured wrist and a bullet lodged in the bicep._

_The remaining soldiers were __**furious**__. _

_But they had won._

* * *

'They say the humans are going to destroy our relay.'

'Is that even possible?'

'I don't know. They've been swarming over the asteroid belt like insects for the last few months, but we could never find them. We finally caught the one downstairs when she was stupid enough not to hide a transmission.'

'And what, she told us that?'

'No, she's not said a word. It was on the transmission we picked up, something about "needing" to destroy the relay. Human scum. We should show her face publicly, and as soon as someone says she's Alliance we'll be able to give the humans what they deserve without their masters in the Council getting involved. It's state sanctioned terrorism.'

Faith, crouching by the doorway to a small room containing a pair of batarians playing cards at a table, listened in with fascination.

Doctor Kenson was planning to _destroy _the mass relay in this system. The very thought was absurd. Why would she do that? What did it have to do with the Reaper artefact she found? Was such a thing even _possible_? The relays were generally rumoured to be impervious, but Shepard knew that it was far more likely that nobody _wanted _to destroy them: if the Reapers had left indestructible alloys floating through space it was far too unlikely that nobody would simply dismantle one to take the technology for use in the military.

But the batarians apparently knew little more than she did. She was pleased to hear Doctor Kenson was keeping silent, but knew that also meant the methods her captors were using, would be getting steadily more extreme. She needed to hurry.

She briefly entertained the idea of neutralising the batarians in the room. They were no threat to her now, sounding as though they had just gotten off shift and were going to turn in for the night, but if she was returning with a prisoner in poor physical shape...

Her fingers curled around the hilt of her 8-inch combat knife, sheathed over her tightly strapped breasts.

It would be so _easy, _with her improved reflexes, to simply slip in and cut the throat of the one whose back was to her, then throw the blade into the neck of the other, severing his vocal chords, before they could even stand.

It was likely nobody would find the bodies before she rescued Doctor Kenson.

She had nearly talked herself into it when something stopped her.

_What am I thinking?_

She had been ready to kill the two batarians. For...

_For what? Tactical advantage of doing so would be tiny, number of risks __**far **__exceed this!_

She gritted her teeth and removed her hand from the knife.

_Not today._

She crept onwards, quickly locating another staircase that led down. The prisons were always underground; they always kept their slaves buried.

She slowed as she reached the bottom, hearing more voices echoing through the dank building, but her goggles, now switched to a more clear, combat-ready mode rather than the infra-red, detected that the speakers were not nearby.

'She still not talking?'

'Not when I last saw her, but I haven't been to see her all day, been busy with the others.'

_Others?_

Faith's gut twisted. Of course there would be others here.

There was nothing she could do for them. She pushed the poor souls from her mind as she crept down the remaining stairs, straining to hear where the voices were coming from.

The stairs opened up into a tight corridor, as much reddish natural stone as hard, grey, unpainted walls now, with several doors on each side, solid metal, with light glimmering from the only open one; the furthest on the right. Just beyond, at the end of the corridor, lay another staircase leading down further to the depths. Voices continued to ring out through the open door.

'Not like a human to last so long. They usually squeal like the animals they are after a few hours with Trugsk. She's held out for _days._'

Faith felt a hot anger at the words. What horrors had these scumbags inflicted on her? Would there be any of her left? Enough of her to live a normal life?

_Enough of her to tell me about the Reaper artefact?_

She hated herself for the thought, but it still lingered.

Teeth clenched together, scars burning as the thick turian warpaint sank deeper into her exposed flesh, Faith approached the open door, and used a small mirror to look into the room as she crouched just outside of it.

Again a pair of batarians were sitting at a table, and she caught sight of several bottles scattered on the floor. They were facing each other, both with their sides to the door.

Her sneaking past unnoticed would not be easy. She might have to distract them with a pebble tossed to the back of their room, or-

'I've gotta piss, think the human's thirsty?'

_Monster!_

The other made a non-committant noise, and before Faith could retreat more than a few squatted steps, a batarian appeared before her.

She froze.

He was just inches away. She could count the threads in his dirty brown trousers. She could smell him, the foul scent of his species causing her nostrils to flare. She tightened her grip around her knife; she was not likely able to draw one of her guns in time. She would slash the tendons in one leg, grab him as he fell and break his neck. If she was _lucky, _she could hurl the knife to kill the other before his call alerted anybody else: she guessed all of the closed doors contained sleeping batarian soldiers.

But the batarian did not react. He simply stepped past her without looking, and clumsily stumbled down the stairs.

_Looks half drunk..._

He had not seen her.

A quick check with the mirror showed that the other batarian was leaning back in his chair, stretching with his eyes closed, and Faith did not waste the opportunity. She crossed the door and descended the stairs, senses now totally alert to any sound, any tiniest flicker of movement.

The tunnels had smelt increasingly foul as she descended: like the stench of fetid waste like such as she had crawled through with an undertone of unwashed bodies, and _rot_.

But as she came out to the final level of the facility, the sensation hit her with an almost _physical _force. The stink was immense, and Faith's heart began to pound at the sight before her. The batarian she followed was walking unsteadily towards a small door at the far end of the cave... but the cave itself was a nightmare. It was wide, wider than any of the tunnels she had passed through yet. The roof was dripping wet, the air thick and full of the taste she had come to recognise as _despair_, the same she had encountered at a dozen raided slaver compounds. Body waste. Sweat. Diseased flesh. The lingering remains of forced sex.

The walls were lined with cages, large constructions that could almost be portable living quarters for manual labourers, with enough room for tiny cots, toilet facilities and some personal effects. But these were not for free men and women. There were no beds. The solid walls were of sharp, rusting, corrugated metal, the doors heavy bars secured by large manual locks: a psychological cage, as a forcefield or electronic lock using plastic-based compounds to make the door would do the same job, as much as a real one. There were eight on each side of the room, and from her position Shepard could see most of them were occupied.

All of the occupants were non-batarians. All of the occupants were shackled, unmoving, eyes looking to the ground. All of the occupants were either naked or draped in rags, sitting next to buckets overflowing with their own filth.

Everything came back to her in a rush.

It had been like this at Torfan.

_After she had gathered her men and treated the injured as best she could, she raided the mines beneath the destroyed bunker._

_What she saw there, cemented her feelings about batarians for the rest of her life._

_Hundreds and hundreds of slaves. All of them dead, bleeding from their eyes as the batarian control chips had been detonated._

_Judging by the tackiness of the blood, they had been dead for hours. Since before they had launched the final assault, at very least._

_Long enough that none of the soldiers who died in the assault on the bunker, had needed to, because if they had known this was all they would find the soldiers could have pulled back, and the Alliance could have bombed the disgusting place into non-existence._

_But they had __**orders**__._

_And they had a cold-hearted N7 commando leading them._

_There were __**so **__many. Nearly every species, even other batarians, packed into small, dirty dorms. Fallen where they stood in the corridors. Dead, still clutching mining tools. All with blood seeping from ruined eyes._

_Some of the soldiers dropped to their knees and began praying. Some cursed angrily. Some railed at her, for not being fast enough to save any of them._

_Shepard did not let emotion touch her, and radioed in that the mission was over. The batarians were defeated._

The memory flashed across her vision as she saw the broken people in the cages around her. They were still kept in filthy and humiliating conditions: they were undergoing _conditioning. _

So when the batarians began to show the littlest bit of kindness; clean clothes, warm food, real bathrooms, it seemed like the world to the, by then, easily suggestible slaves. Then the process would begin in earnest, wearing them down until there was nothing left other than a mindless need to please their masters.

Heart torn between a deep sadness and a burning anger, Faith stalked across the room towards the batarian slowly making his way towards the door at the far end, she felt her cold detachment begin to slip.

These _monsters _had done this to so many people, tortured them, humiliated them, broken what made them people, all for the demands of their sick culture, a culture that deserved nothing more than to _burn._

She pulled out her knife as she closed the distance.

There was no room left for subtlety. Whatever lay beyond the door ahead would _die_, and she would take whatever was left of Doctor Kenson out of this horrific place.

Shepard grabbed the top of the batarian's head and ripped her knife across his throat, hard and deep enough that she nearly decapitated him right there, _hearing_ the blade drag across his cervical vertebrae with a tiny squeal. He made no sound other than a soft _thump _as she lowered his body to the ground.

She felt the heady battle rush fill her body, and with no further hesitation she pushed the door ahead of her open. Three batarians stood before her, facing away, standing around a small, naked, shivering form chained to the floor.

Doctor Kenson.

Faith took two quick steps forward as all of the batarians turned towards the disturbed door.

None of them managed to speak a full word.

'He-'

'Wha-'

A reverse-gripped slash tore open the throat of the one in the middle. He span and knocked the one on the right to him to the ground, both collapsing in a pile of limbs and spraying blood.

The other took a step backwards, raising his hands as Faith reached out and grabbed the coward's collar. Angling the knife, she pulled his chest forward onto the blade with a deep growl. As she ripped it out, serrated edge tearing apart his flesh, a warm wetness splashed across her face and she turned to the final, fallen, batarian, whose four disgusting eyes were wide with fear as he tried to right himself, slipping in the blood of his comrade, and the filth of his interrogation room.

Faith dropped one hard knee onto his chest, pressing him to the floor and brought the butt of her knife down on his hideous excuse for a nose, feeling her artificially bolstered muscles flood with power.

His face collapsed.

_Threat neutralised._

She snapped her gaze up to Doctor Kenson, who was looking at her, eyes wide with as much fear as the batarians she just butchered.

'I'm getting you out of here.' Faith's voice, even muffled as it was by the balaclava, was cold, as she tried to keep the rush from overwhelming her.

'Behind you!' Doctor Kenson's voice was croaky - she was clearly dehydrated, but she spoke with admirable strength - and at the warning Faith spun on her heel, seeing the drunken batarian's partner from earlier standing in the doorway, weapon hanging at his side in a stunned stupor. Not hesitating, Faith lashed out her knife arm, and milliseconds later her blade was embedded in the creature's chest, and he dropped to his knees, blood bubbling from his mouth.

Faith stood and walked over to the batarian. As she stood over him, she caught a glimpse of herself reflected in his eyes. Clad in black leather, head encased in a pitch dark balaclava, all of her exposed skin was daubed in thick black war paint, and soaked in batarian blood. Her eyes were covered by faceless goggles, but she could see the angry nanites were glowing through even the tinted lenses.

'What... are...' the batarian spluttered, spraying a mist of blood into her face as she knelt before him.

Faith leaned in close, and used a finger to yank the balaclava to under her chin, allowing her lips freedom to wrap around the hissed words.

'The Butcher.'

Faith ripped out the knife.

* * *

_Dead slaves weren't the only things Shepard found in the mines. Twenty six petrified batarians were found cowering in an office, unarmed and unarmoured other than dropped stun batons._

_They surrendered. _

_Faith's soldiers led them out of the compound._

_They weren't gentle. Three were missing teeth and another had a broken arm by the time they hauled the dismayed batarians out into the ruins of what used to be a well fortified bunker._

_She had them kneel before her, hands on their heads, as her remaining soldiers - all still furious with grief and rage at what they had been through and what they had seen in the mines - kept weapons trained on them._

_Faith walked to the batarian furthest on the left, injured arm dangling uselessly by her side as she clutched a heavy pistol in the other._

'_What was your role here?' _

_He spat on her._

_The crack of her handgun echoed through the silent ruin, and the back of his skull vaporised as a small, smoking hole appeared in his forehead._

_She walked to the next batarian before the first's body had even slumped to the ground._

'_What was your role here?'_

'_You can't do this human, I know your laws-'_

_Again, a gunshot shattered the silence._

_She walked to the next. 'Do I need to ask again?'_

_The terrified batarian shook his head frantically._

'_Don't say anything Shavrik, I'll kill you mysel-' Faith nodded to the soldier guarding the batarian who had spoken up, and he executed the slaver with a cold smile. She had done a good job of riling them up, but it was the batarians themselves who filled her soldiers with this bloodlust._

'_Shavrik, you seem like you're smarter than your friends. So, I'll ask again... what was your role here?' She spoke clearly, allowing a small hint of feigned sympathy to touch her voice._

'_We're the herders!'_

_Shavrik's companions groaned angrily, but no more of them spoke._

'_Herder...' she rolled the word around in her mouth. 'And what does a herder do?'_

'_We make the slaves work harder! Please, don't kill me! I have a family!' _

_She turned away from him, feeling cold anger course through her veins. A family?_

_Faith had a family, once. _

_She looked to her soldiers. 'Our orders were to destroy this facility and stop slaving operations in the sector. It seems there are still slavers alive, so our mission is not yet complete.'_

_Shepard turned, and pointed her pistol at Shavrik's forehead, who immediately stumbled backwards, stuttering futile words of peace._

'_Open fire.'_

* * *

Doctor Kenson was truly a tough woman. Shepard could see more than one fresh scar and burn across her body, covering a map of previous injuries that put those on her old body to shame. She placed the woman at around age sixty due to the silvery hair and lines around her blackened eyes, but she was in excellent physical shape; the clear starvation not detracting from the bands of muscle, still tight as rope, underneath her waxy skin.

She handed the doctor a pair of tubes filled with nutrient paste packed with stimulants, used by soldiers in the field who needed a quick boost, which would hopefully assuage the worst of the malnutrition and get her on her feet. Whilst she was eating, Shepard set to melting away the chains holding Kenson to the ground. The Alliance operative had room to move, but not a lot, and the woman's skin was soiled with both batarian blood and unknowable filth.

After Kenson wolfed them down, she fixed Shepard with a steely glare. 'I heard what you said to that batarian. Are you-?'

Faith silenced her with a hand, then glanced around the room and spotted a camera in one corner. She destroyed it with a quick pistol blast, then pulled off her balaclava and goggles.

'Commander Shepard? Thank god!' Kenson's icy mask broke for a second, a strange look in her eyes. Faith knew she must look a horror: covered in batarian blood, thick war paint and angry scars, but she needed Kenson to know just who she was and why she was here... and why it was so important.

'It's not Commander any more. I'm here as a favour to a mutual friend and we both know why.' She glanced up to the ruined security camera. 'We need to move; I don't know if anybody was watching that security feed.'

Shepard took a deep breath as the final chain was cut, and tried to soften her voice. 'Are you ok to get out of here?'

Doctor Kenson looked down at her starved, scarred, naked body, but the gaze that fixed Shepard's a second later was full of steel and the same burning rage she saw in the eyes of her soldiers at Torfan. The desire for _revenge_.

_Better that than having her broken..._

'I'll live. Let's move.'

Shepard nodded to the batarian whose face she had caved in. 'Take his clothes. I'll scout the exit.'

Without any further ceremony, Shepard left Kenson to dress, pulling on her goggles and headwear once more. She would not allow the batarians to identify her if at all possible.

As she left the small torture room, a small voice to her side drew her attention. 'Please...'

She looked, and saw a human man clutching at the bars of the cage holding him, eyes sunken and beaten, skin thin and papery.

She could not save them all. Getting _one _person out would be tough enough, and Doctor Kenson was a hard woman with military training.

This man was beaten, nearly broken. He could barely stand, in his tight confinement. He would sabotage her chances of escape.

'Please!' His voice was slightly stronger this time, eyes beginning to glimmer with a tiny hope.

Faith dropped her head, feeling the cold, hard, anger burn away in an instant.

She always felt so _helpless _when people asked her for help. She was no hero. She didn't know how to make everybody's lives better, how to save them. As bad as she felt for the man, when she looked at him, she did not see a person for rescuing. She saw a _distraction_, to her own mission.

But could she just condemn him to live this horror, when he was not yet broken to his masters' will?

_No._

The batarians would not be allowed this person. He would not suffer such a fate. If she could not rescue him, she would do him the second greatest mercy.

She unholstered her silenced pistol. _Not _the one carrying tranquilizer rounds.

The man's eyes widened, startled, but only for a second. He dropped to his knees, closed his eyes, and clasped his hands together in prayer, a tiny, sad smile on his face.

'I'm sorry,' Faith whispered, before raising the gun and shooting him through the forehead. A mist of blood, and the man slumped backwards onto his feet, before toppling to the side, smile still formed on his lips. The muffled shot echoed around the room, echoed throughout her very being. Another death. Another life taken, all hopes and dreams and loves quashed out in an instant. To add to the _hundreds _she had taken with her hands, to add to the _thousands _she was responsible for. So much blood that she was steeped in it. She raised a hand to her eye, frustrated when her glove touched only the hard lens of her goggles.

_Killer._

She looked around, and saw the other slaves were all watching her.

One by one, they dropped to their knees, just as the man had.

With an infinite sadness wrenching at her heart, Faith granted them all their final wish.


	25. Chapter 25

'Vega!'

Lieutenant James Vega, head fuzzy with the remains of that - _what the hell __**was **__that the crazy guy brewed up? -_ hopped out of his bed at the commanding shout, instinctively snapping a salute in the general direction of the voice before his eyes had even adjusted to the light. He winced as he felt the soft fabric of something that felt uncomfortably like his underwear flutter from his hand down his face, but did not move to catch them or cover himself. He had been in the Alliance long enough to tell when his superiors were pissed, and while on a good day he was happy to push things a little, when somebody sounded like _that _it was best to jump to attention and shout "Yes sir!" a lot.

'Put some damned pants on Vega, you've got a call. Admiral Hackett in the comms room, be there in five or you'll be sorry you dragged your ass out of bed at all.' Major Stevenson sounded even angrier than normal, and as Vega's vision began to clear, he saw the man, almost a foot shorter than himself, turn and stalk away. The _cabrón _had a bit of an anger issue, probably because he was so short, and ran the soldiers stationed on Arcturus Station with an iron fist.

Vega was looking forward to getting out: after the mess on Fehl Prime he'd just wanted to drink himself stupid for a few days on some slum where he didn't have to worry about _exactly _this happening after a drinking session, but the damned Alliance wouldn't let him. They kept him on active duty for _months_, mostly just keeping him close to answer any more of their stupid questions, as though he hadn't already told them everything a dozen times. He spent most days in the gym and firing range: there wasn't much else for him to do.

He was finally supposed to be getting some leave in two days, and had already organised a shuttle to Omega.

_Hope the brass isn't going to mess it up..._

He quickly dressed into something half presentable for the admiral, and jogged through the clean, cramped, bright white corridors of Arcturus, wondering what Hackett wanted with him. The old man was tough, and looked like one of the few admirals who had actually seen combat - most of the rest were politicians and stuffed shirts who were happier behind a desk than actually getting something done.

Four and a half minutes after he had awoken, he burst into the comms room, stopping short as the admiral himself was standing in the centre, datapad clutched in his hand. Vega immediately straightened to attention, snapping a crisp salute - he had expected the man on vid-comm. The admiral returned the gesture, waving the datapad at Vega after the military formalities were dealt with. 'At ease, Lieutenant.'

Hackett was only a little taller than Stevenson, but _seemed _bigger: whether it was the naturally authoritative voice, or the grizzled scars, the man commanded respect. Vega shifted to a parade rest, and the admiral looked at him for several seconds, pale blue eyes dissecting him.

The admiral seemed to collect his thoughts, and spoke with a clipped voice. 'Tell me what you know about former Lieutenant Commander Faith Shepard.'

Vega blinked, before the name caught up with the hero. Her full name, her full title, took a second to click with his image of _Commander Shepard._

The question prickled the hairs on his neck, but he answered with practiced precision, letting his head throb on its own time while his instincts took over. 'Enlisted on her eighteenth birthday sir, after two years in an Alliance youth program following the slaver attack on Mindoir. Achieved top marks in all classes, including setting new records for most of the N7 scoreboards. Served with distinction and led several successful campaigns, notably Torfan, and was... ah... _promoted _to Council Spectre in 2183. Less than a year later, she was listed KIA following her saving the Citadel Council from an attack by Saren Arterius and a geth fleet. Reappeared in 2185, was reinstated into the Spectres but not the Alliance, because it was confirmed she was working with Cerberus.'

Vega stopped then, wondering if the admiral wanted him to say what they both knew.

'And?' prompted Hackett.

_No point hiding it..._

'And two months ago, she destroyed the Collectors, ending the series of abductions in the Terminus Systems.'

'Rendering your efforts on Fehl Prime in vain.'

He felt a flash of anger 'Yes sir. Though if I-'

'Enough, Vega. You made the right choice at the time. You won't find many officers of note who haven't been through something similar.' The admirals kept saying that, but it did not make the guilt go away. He sacrificed the colonists, for data that Shepard neutralised the need for just weeks later. It was hardly her fault, but he could not help feeling resentful towards the woman.

What did Hackett want with him?

'And what have you heard since then?' The admiral's voice took on a less formal tone.

Rumours... but could he tell the admiral some of the more outrageous things he had heard?

'Speak freely, Vega.' Hackett said, datapad forgotten at his side.

James nodded his closely shaven head, and began. 'Stories, mostly, sir. I've heard just about everything - from her plotting to take down the Council to her building a secret army in preparation for the Reapers. Nobody's seen her in person since the Collector attack.'

'And you believe her about the Reapers?' Hackett arched an eyebrow at him. Was this some kind of test? The admiral himself seemed open to the idea, and Vega's headache, combined with his impatience at the ridiculous games of the brass, left him in no mood for lying. He would speak his mind.

'Yes sir. I saw enough of the Collectors, saw what happened at the Citadel, and think we shouldn't be ignoring her.'

To his surprise, the admiral nodded_. _'It's still a long way from hitting the official command structure, Lieutenant, but the Council has confirmed the existence of the Reapers as a... _race_,' he said, slightly emphasising the word as if testing it for correctness, 'from the ruins Shepard left of the Collector base. That _doesn't _mean they believe her about an invasion, but it's something. Hell, more than something,' said Hackett, sounding wistful.

Vega was stunned to hear that. That kind of information must have been _beyond _classified. 'Ah, why are you telling me this, sir?'

The admiral finally moved from his spot in the centre of the room, and walked past Vega towards the door, gesturing the soldier to follow. Alliance personnel pushed themselves against the walls ahead of the pair, as Hackett led Vega towards the elevators. 'I'm telling you because while I can do a little with the other admirals to begin preparations, there's something else _you _can do. I've got an assignment, but it's one you're free to turn down.'

'Sir, I was supposed to be on leave in a couple of days.' He winced internally at the words, knowing how craven they sounded. He just wanted to _chill _for a while, not be thrown back into it.

'I know Vega, and you deserve it more than most. But hear me out before you say no.' An elevator door opened, and the pair boarded. Hackett jabbed the button marked "armoury", and James felt the bottom drop from his stomach as they descended in the small, clean carriage.

'Shepard is outfitting a crew. While I don't know all the details, the ship she's in command of bears remarkable similarities to the SSV Normandy, though she insists Cerberus no longer sponsor her. Councillor Anderson informs me that during her attack on the Collectors, her crew suffered heavy casualties.'

Death seemed to follow Shepard like a shroud. He knew her career in much more detail than he told Hackett; how she _always _got the job done... but never without cost. He had learned what that was like on Fehl Prime, and it almost broke him. His childish idolisation of the woman had died at the same time the colonists did: she had made more than one decision like that, and continued onwards. What kind of a person could do that over and over?

'She's asked me to help get her more men for her ship. That's where you come in.' continued Hackett.

The elevator doors opened, and the admiral immediately set off towards the area Vega knew contained the more experimental weapons and special forces gear which was kept well away from the standard issue kit they gave to the grunts. The admirals words caught up with him. He was going to be working with Shepard?

'If you accept, you'll effectively be out of all Alliance command chains. You'll answer directly to her, though you can report back to me at any time. Your career will effectively be on hold while you're with her: no chance for promotion. Pay will be kept the same.'

'What'll I be doing?' he asked.

Hackett stopped just before the door to the special forces armoury, and looked at Vega. 'You'll be put through hell, Vega, that's what you'll be doing. Shepard's going to be fighting the Reapers from the very front, and you'll need to give your best and then some. Are you up for it?'

Vega bit his lip. It had always been his dream to work with Shepard, and the opportunity had just been dropped in his lap. But now he had it, the concept seemed substantially less appealing. Thrown into the very worst of the galaxy, to work under somebody who he guessed would not hesitate to sacrifice him if it meant the difference between defeat and victory.

_What else is there?_

After he saw what the Collectors did, knowing now that they were thralls of the Reapers... he could make up for his failure at Fehl Prime. By doing what he did best: fighting, with the best defence the galaxy had.

'Yes, sir. I'll do it.' To James, there was really no other choice.

Hackett nodded with a grim smile. 'Good. You'll be picked up in twelve hours.'

'Twelve hours? Sir that's loco, I've got...' He trailed off. He honestly did not have anything keeping him. A tiny footlocker with some personal effects, and nobody on the station he was close enough to need to say goodbye to. 'Erm, sorry, that's ok, I'll be ready.'

Hackett nodded again, and pushed the door open, continuing to speak. 'We're not sending you in empty handed. We've got some kit for you.'

A small, geeky looking guy in a lab coat appeared before Hackett, and saluted. Hackett returned the gesture, as did Vega, and the admiral spoke. 'Specialist, this is him. Is it ready?'

'Yes sir, though I need to repeat that giving this tech to someone who hasn't been trained properly could be a huge waste of resources, not to mention-'

'I've heard your objections, specialist. He's here now, and you'll give him the accelerated training.'

The weapons tech looked troubled, and Vega wondered what they were talking about. New kit? He usually preferred standard gear, but he had to admit special forces had some fun toys.

'You said I'd have ten hours... sir, it takes most people _two weeks _to learn how to properly use this suit!'

'Then I suggest you get started. Lieutenant Vega, this is Specialist Canderman. He'll be showing you around your new gear. I have to go, but I'll be there when you depart. Docking Bay A8, Vega, Twenty hundred hours.'

After again sharing salutes, the weapons tech looked up at Vega. 'No wonder he had me modify it, you must half krogan! Follow me, we don't have much time.'

The man in a lab coat hurried off to a side room and Vega followed bemusedly, wondering what this was all about.

As he entered the room - a long firing range he had not expected - his breath caught. Mounted before him was a huge, gleaming suit of armour. It was absolutely enormous: enough to put at least another half foot on both his already substantial height and width, all in Alliance colours, but somehow... _darker... _perhaps because the armour itself looked so intense. Heavy, flat plates made up the majority of the suit, with sharp edges rather than rounded curves wherever he could look. One of the gauntlets was massive; Vega suspected it harboured a weapon of some kind, and he also saw a small device on the shoulder, that looked like a miniature missile launcher.

The suit was, in short, beautiful.

'T5-V Battlesuit. Most soldiers call it "The Destroyer". Costs a small fortune to make, hell, even just reloading the weapons costs about half your annual salary. We usually only give it to N7s, but Admiral Hackett was insistent, I guess you're going somewhere important.'

The tech slammed a huge book on the bench before the firing range. It was twice as thick as the Alliance field operations manual. 'What's that?' he asked, slightly dazed that he was being _given _such an advanced piece of technology. To go somewhere he would not even be under Alliance command.

'The instruction manual.'

'_Puta madre...'_

* * *

Faith stood over the final slave, a salarian woman bleeding from her perforated skull, feeling absolutely drained.

The ice cold rage she had felt as she tore the batarians apart with her knife had dissipated, leaving her with a deep well of nausea in her stomach. She had _enjoyed _killing them. It had never bothered her before; her enjoyment or lack thereof in her work did not affect her decisions. She could not allow it to. She was a soldier of the Alliance, doing her duty.

Now, she followed no command other than her own. She answered to nobody: whilst technically she was still a Spectre, if the Council called and demanded she take a mission of theirs that was not directly involved in preparing for the Reapers, she would refuse. She had a ship, a crew, of her own, and enough resources through Liara to support any mission.

It was terrifying. The Alliance was safe. There were rules. Regulations. Boundaries of what she could and could not do, definite targets for her to achieve. The Council were slightly different: she had been given a lot of leeway, but was still expected to report to them, to answer to them, to have her decisions scrutinised. So when she tore apart enemies, she could say to herself that it was for _the mission, _for the Council.

Not for herself.

There was some comfort in knowing that she could not have rescued Doctor Kenson without killing those batarians, but would she have done it anyway?

What would Liara say, if she had seen that display?

She tried not to think of the answer, as she watched the thick green blood bubble from the salarian's head.

Shepard heard footsteps, and instantly snapped back to attention. She was still in hostile territory, and could not afford any distractions. Doctor Kenson stepped from the torture room, dressed in stained, heavy duty clothes that were much too big for her.

The Alliance operative looked around, seeing all of the dead slaves. 'You did them a mercy.' Kenson's voice was free of any compassion: she said it as though it was a scientific fact.

In a strange way, that was more reassuring than any actual comfort, and Faith straightened. She was special forces: selected for her ability not just in combat, but also to be able to operate in conditions that would have most minds crippled by pain, fear or indecision. Trained to be cold, because it was a necessity. There were not many branches of the Alliance that put its operatives through more rigorous mental training than special forces, but they existed. Doctor Kenson, the victim of days of torture, standing before her looking as though that was a mere _inconvenience_, was the result of one of them.

Faith pulled out her other pistol, and detached the clip of tranquilizer rounds. They would not be needed any more.

Shepard handed the gun wordlessly to Doctor Kenson, who checked the clip with quick professionalism and nodded.

Shepard gestured to the stairs, and began speaking quickly and quietly, voice muffled by her balaclava. 'We have no backup or extraction points. I've got a way out of the facility, but I'd rather hijack one of the batarian shuttles so we can get off the planet. They won't notice anything wrong until it's too late to follow.'

Kenson's voice was equally clipped. 'Agreed. My operation is set up in the asteroid belt near the relay, we can lose any scans or pursuers there.'

That was partially Faith's plan; Liara had already sabotaged the planetary defence grid, and would keep it non-functional well into the next day. The only concern was physical pursuit. But Kenson could not know that, and Faith was again impressed by the woman's mental fortitude in such circumstance, and briefly wondered if Hackett would let her keep the operative; she would clearly be a great asset. Suddenly Kenson's icy mask broke into a small frown as she continued, quiet words apparently as much to herself as Faith. 'I have been away too long. There isn't much time left.'

The words sent a chill down Faith's spine. 'Time for what?'

'It'll be easier to show you than tell you. Needless to say, we need to leave.'

Faith nodded, displeased with the answer but understanding of the reasons. A torture room in a hostile prison was not the best place for talking, so she led the way out of the prison.

It almost seemed too easy. The batarians were still asleep, even those she had overheard talking earlier. Kenson moved somewhat tenderly, unsurprising given the treatment she had endured, but with a grace that kept her bare footsteps silent: Faith assumed she left the batarian's boots for that reason.

When they finally reached the open courtyard without incident, the pair ducked behind a loading machine to discuss their next move. Kenson closed her eyes and tilted her head up to the pounding rain, running her hands through her steel-coloured hair, as Shepard swiftly relayed her knowledge, both from the intel gathered beforehand and what she saw on her way in.

'There are two shuttles here permanently, on the far side of this courtyard. Two others traverse between here, the colony, and the other bases, but only during the day, and are kept at the colony. All are standard Kodiak models; shouldn't be too difficult to scuttle one and hijack the other.'

'Physical presence?' Kenson promoted, still holding her face up to the warm rain of Aratoht.

'One on patrol, two by the gate. Another two in the other building, but with this rain they won't see or hear us. I'll neutralise the first three before we leave, and the planetary defence grid has been disabled. Nobody will notice until it's too late.' Faith forced herself to stay cold. To stay disconnected. Killing them was tactical advantage, no more.

Finally Kenson dropped her head, and wiping the wet hair away from hazel eyes, fixed Shepard with a solid glare. 'Then let's move.'

A heavy roar of thunder sounded as the pair traversed to the pair of shuttles, each on its own landing pad, at the rear of the courtyard. The weather was only getting worse, the rain heavier, and visibility would be next to zero if not for Faith's goggles. When they reached the shuttles, ducking beneath the platform of the nearest, Faith took Kenson's shoulder and pulled the other woman in to speak directly into her ear. 'Can you get these shuttles ready? I'll neutralise the batarians.'

Kenson nodded. 'Give me your omni-tool, I'll overload the systems in one and prepare the other.'

Grateful for the Alliance's insistence of training its best operatives in a wide variety of skills, Faith quickly caught sight of the patrolling batarian, before handing her omni-tool to Kenson and setting off after him, trusting the Alliance operative not to give herself away with any careless lights or noise.

She trailed the batarian for close to ten minutes, performing almost an entire circuit of the courtyard - he stopped only briefly to share pleasantries with the guards on the gate - before he finally activated his omni-tool, and spoke into it: 'Perimeter clear.'

The second the light dimmed, Faith closed the gap with a few quick steps and dragged her knife across his throat, hauling his body into the shadows before he even died.

_Next..._

She drew her lightweight M-97 Viper sniper rifle, unsuitable for any anti-armour use but perfect for unshielded, unhelmeted, batarian heads, took up a hidden position, and waited.

She did not have to wait long.

Bright light flashed across her goggles, blinding her for just a second before her eyes adjusted to the light, the process sped up by the machines running through her body, and she began to count as she drew sights on the batarian on the right.

_One... two... now!_

She pulled the trigger the instant the crack of thunder sounded, the muffled shot disappearing into the roaring barrage through the night. The window nearest her splintered, a spider's web of cracks spreading from the small perforation, and the batarian's head suddenly sported a tiny hole as the high velocity round tore straight through it, impacting and embedding itself into the wall of the guard post. Before his partner could react, before the thundercrack had even finished echoing through the night, she lined up sights on the dead batarian's partner who dropped to the floor as another bullet tore through the guard post.

Faith hated sniping. She knew, of course, the tactical advantage of fighting at long range, but doing so always left her _itchy, _as though her being unable physically express the effort that should be required to take a life left her body aching to expel the energy.

Shaking her head to banish the grim thoughts, Faith shipped away the sniper rifle and jogged back to the shuttles, noticing as she got close the gentle _thrum _of an engine through the pounding rain - Kenson had been successful.

Within minutes they had taken off, Kenson telling Shepard with grim satisfaction that the other shuttle had detonated about thirty seconds later.

They had reached the outer atmosphere of the planet before the batarian comms system indicated they suspected the departing shuttle was not genuine; too far gone for the batarians to make an effective pursuit with the planetary systems down.

_Thank you, Liara..._

Doctor Amanda Kenson was safe.

* * *

Kasumi Goto picked up the ceramic jug with a sigh. It was much too empty, and yet the memories had not stopped. Miranda. Jack. Samara. The lovely Jacob. Even grumpy old Zaeed. A dozen chats with a dozen surprisingly pleasant Cerberus staff.

All dead.

Like Keiji.

She refilled the drinking cup with the now lukewarm sake, acrid stench of the cheap blend filling her nostrils, and looked into its clear depths. She had not even bothered to visit one of her usual, far classier, drinking establishments for this binge; she was instead in a sleazy bar in one of the less pleasant parts of Tokyo.

Being pathetic.

The depression did not go away for knowing it.

She had taken a few odd jobs since leaving Shepard, but had otherwise stayed off the radar, finding no pleasure in either the work (it was all _terribly _boring... people wanting paintings and jewellery stolen when the Reapers were coming, put a real downer on things.) or conversation (she had just finished working with a team of misfit heroes. Art collectors did not have quite the same... flare.).

So she decided to get drunk. She hadn't done it for a while; a couple of times when she was young, one very merry night with Keiji. Once when he died, after which she promised never to do it again after lying in a pitiful state of grief and headaches for an entire weekend.

_So much for that..._

Just as she was about to take another sip, her omni-tool lit up with an alert of someone calling her. A few heads turned her way: omni technology was still not widespread in the poorer areas of Earth, but not for long. Judging by the downcast eyes, most people were here for the same reason she was.

The caller ID was hidden, but Kasumi immediately recognised the encryption protocols: she had done several jobs for this particular person... _or ex-person_, she supposed with a smile.

Kasumi hit "answer", and a distorted voice filled the comms system on the headset she wore inside of her hood.

'Miss Goto, I have a well paying job, if you are currently available.'

Kasumi could not help but chuckle, feeling some of the darkness swept away. She _did _miss this. 'You can ditch the cloak and dagger act, T'Soni.'

'W... what are you talking about?' The distorted voice suddenly stumbled in a _highly _amusing manner.

'You'd think Shep's girlfriend wouldn't need to hide herself from me... I'm insulted!' Kasumi lamented with overblown drama, wide grin across her face.

'Oh... Goddess...' The distorted voice muttered, as much as a distorted voice could. There was a whirring sound, then a slightly more feminine sounding voice spoke up again. 'How is this?'

'Still a little bit Deepthroat.' Kasumi answered, finally deciding against drinking the rest of the sake, pushing the cup and bottle away from her. The effect of what she had already consumed had transformed from a gloomy sluggishness to a pleasant buzz... just at the reminder of her time on the Normandy. She had only been on board the ship for a few months, would she never be able to go back to a life of random art thievery?

'Excuse me?' the now only slightly distorted voice sounded baffled.

'I mean you still sound like a krogan with a throat infection.'

'Goddess, I am bad at this...' Another whir. 'How about now?'

Kasumi shook her head, giggling. Liara sounded like she had inhaled a lungful of helium. 'Too far. You _can _just turn those things off, you know.'

'Oh... ah yes, I see it!' the squeaky voice continued, before instantly clearing up. 'Is that better?'

'Much. You need to work on your badass spy routine. I've got some hints if you want. First, you'll need some black clothes...'

'Must you tease me?' Liara pouted. Kasumi had only spoken to the asari two or three times, but she seemed adorably awkward when conversing, and worked wonders on the usually uptight Shepard.

'Hey, you're the one who called me all... Shadow Broker...y! Anyway, Kasumi Goto, at your service. What can I do for the girlfriend of humanity's hero?' Kasumi stood and paid for her drinks, exiting the bar and finding a quiet spot in an alleyway to converse quietly.

'As I said, I have a job, if you are willing.' Liara replied, sounding a lot more comfortable in her own voice.

'Sounds intriguing. It's not another suicide mission, is it? Because-'

'Oh, no!' Liara quickly spoke, before calming her voice. 'You are still a thief, are you not?'

'Hey, not so loud!' Kasumi said with a grin, but still instinctively looked around. Nobody could hack her comms without her knowing, but that did not stop old habits.

'I apologise. Would you be interested in taking the job? I can pay very well.'

'I don't need creds, I stopped doing this for the money a _long _time ago...' Kasumi had more than enough money stashed away in assorted accounts and investments, but in truth those luxuries she enjoyed; certain artwork, old books, she _stole. _She had little use for the money. 'But... ah... is it for...'

She felt terrible for asking, seeing how she had unceremoniously _quit _Shepard's team, but that did not mean she was not interested in helping the fight.

'Yes, it is for the fight against the Reapers.' Liara said quietly.

'Then consider it on the house. Same with anything else you need me to lift for the war.' Kasumi answered, equally solemnly.

'T... thank you, Kasumi.'

'Hey, if I can't fight, I want to at least do what I can, and stealing things is pretty much what I do_._' Kasumi replied, trying to lighten the tone again. She was not one for gloominess. 'Tell me about this job.'

'Your target is Kassa Fabrications prototype testing facility, in Siberia, Russia, Earth. I have schematics and more I will send to you, and can arrange discreet transport to a nearby location whenever you are ready.' Liara's voice instantly took a business-like edge, and Kasumi was startled at how quickly the awkward asari had disappeared.

'Kassa? Shiney!' Kassa always made the best armour. But... it was winter in Russia. Cold. Snow. No room for slinky, skintight catsuits. _Damn. _'What am I after?'

'The company recently developed a new armour plating, suitable for deployment on individual soldiers, substantially stronger than anything else of a similar weight, with technology that even partially dissipates biotic... never mind. Suffice to say, it is _very _strong. However, given the enormous cost of production, Kassa could not market it to the Alliance so they eventually cancelled the project as economically unviable. I would like you to retrieve both the schematics and a sample of the material; both of which, I am reliably informed, are kept in secure archives. I will send you further intel to help you identify the correct piece. Will you do this?'

Kasumi's face split into a happy grin. Top secret research labs in the middle of the Siberian tundra? That was the kind of thievery she dreamt about as a little girl! 'Of course! I'll have it before they know it's gone.'

'Oh, thank you so much Kasumi!'

'My pleasure! Literally.' She did love her work, and felt more enthused about this task than anything else since the Collectors. Something occurred to the thief. 'Not that I'm not happy to speak to you _Ao, _but is there some reason Shep's not the one making the call?'

'Oh, yes, she is on a mission, in terrible danger, no doubt.' Liara's attempt at flippancy fell flat as Kasumi heard the worry ring through every word.

'How's she doing?' Kasumi asked softly. Shepard had been rather... volatile... after the Collector Base, seeming to only properly calm down the day after Liara arrived. And Kasumi had left - _fled _-the Normandy only days after.

'She...' Liara sounded hesitant. 'She misses you. Not you in... I mean, she misses everybody, both those who left and those who... did not return.'

'Shep said that?'

'She does not need to speak the words. But there were so many lost, and then...'

_And then me, Thane, Grunt, Mordin, all left her. _

'Look, Liara, I know what you're trying to do.' Kasumi ducked her head. 'I don't really blame you; I know what it's like, worrying for those you care about. But please don't try to guilt me into coming back. I don't think I can... with all of those memories, all that... death...'

Kasumi took a deep breath. She was not angry at Liara - in truth, she was more upset at herself. She _knew _how important Shepard's work was and how the woman, however stoic and soldier-y she might be, took the losses truly to heart; both the deaths and those who left afterwards. But even the _thought _of returning had Kasumi trembling. She was not a soldier.

_We're all be soldiers soon, Kasumi. There won't be anywhere to hide when they come._

Shepard had said that. The words still sent shivers down her spine.

Maybe... maybe she could return, one day. But not today. Not yet.

The comm was silent for a few more seconds, before Liara spoke again, voice ashamed. 'Forgive me Kasumi, manipulation of friends should be beneath me.'

'Don't worry about it. You're looking out for your girl, I can't hold that against you. Look, send me the details about Kassa and we'll forget it ever happened, ok?'

'I... I will. Thank you.' the thief's omni-tool lit up: a large data packet had just been delivered.

'No sweat. If you get that transport you mentioned to Tokyo, I'm ready to go whenever it arrives and I'll review this data on the journey over.' She would also need something to take care of the alcohol in her system, but there were drugs that could do that, and she knew where to get them.

'I will have the transport ready shortly, and send you further details. Thank you again, Kasumi, and good luck.'

'Luck?' Kasumi chuckled, 'I'm insulted! I've got finely honed skills and an awesome outfit, thank you very much.'

Liara laughed in response, the tension finally cleared.

'I'll have your armour with you soon,' Kasumi promised. 'And... when she gets back, tell Shep I miss her too.'

* * *

'Tell me about this Reaper artefact.'

Kenson had set the shuttle to autopilot towards the asteroid belt: she would have to manually direct it when they arrived, but for now they had some time to talk about the real reason Shepard had rescued her. The N7 commando pulled off both her goggles and balaclava, running a hand through her short hair, matted with sweat and rain, and used a rag found in the shuttle to clean the drying batarian blood from her face.

Kenson nodded. 'We found it buried in an asteroid. It was a stroke of luck; we heard rumours of some unusual readings associated with those collected from Sovereign, and got to the artefact before the batarians did. It took months to unearth and properly decode the readings but what we found...' the operative shook her head. 'It was emitting a pulse, like a beacon.'

Shepard felt an instinctive chill run down her spine. 'You were exposed to this?'

'We were careful,' Kenson clarified crisply. 'Your warnings about indoctrination led to the Alliance developing experimental protocols. We obviously can't be certain how effective they are, given the lack of active Reaper material for testing, but we use several types of containment fields, and all of the project crew undergo regular psych evaluations with somebody who goes nowhere near the artefact. It's not perfect, but it's the best we can do.'

'Why didn't you hand it over to Alliance command, or the Council, right away?' Shepard asked, nodding grimly at Kenson's assessment.

Kenson gave a cold smile. 'Would you believe me if I told you we couldn't? Even our most advanced mining lasers could not properly excavate it from the super-hard core of the asteroid. We needed stronger machines, and couldn't smuggle them into batarian space.'

'That won't be a problem. I'll use my Spectre status, I'll use any and every resource I have to get this artefact seen.' Shepard's mind barely began running through ideas before Kenson shot her down.

'I'm afraid it's too late for that, Shepard.'

Her blood turned to ice. 'What do you mean?'

'The pulse the artefact emits? It's a countdown. The time between each pulse decreases every time. Once we figured that out, we extrapolated the time left until it reached zero. We can't be _sure _what it is counting down to, but I'm sure we both have a good idea, considering the Bahak system is the furthest settled colony from the galactic core. The nearest to dark space.'

Shepard felt her hands begin to tremble. The rumble of the engines of the shuttle faded to nothing. 'How long?' Her voice sounded like it was coming from a different throat.

'At the time of my capture, seven and a half days.'

_Oh, God..._

'I can't be sure how long I was kept sedated, but I was awake for a little over three days in batarian custody.'

Shepard stood up and began pacing in the small space of the shuttle.

So soon? There was nothing she could do, she was not _nearly _prepared, the galaxy was still divided, the leaders still refused to see the truth!

The Reapers would arrive. They would wipe out Bahak, then travel-

_Oh._

The overhead conversations of the batarians suddenly clicked into place.

'You want to destroy the relay, to delay the arrival. The Reapers will have to fly to the next system, rather than be relay-jumped.' Shepard deduced.

Kenson nodded grimly. 'We didn't have time to do anything else. By the time the Council actually organised an expeditionary force, they would have already arrived. The Alliance cannot travel in batarian space in any force without starting a war we can't afford. I've been shipping as many thrusters and rockets as possible, to slam the asteroid housing the artefact itself into the relay, but I was too hasty. I got caught when I slipped up on an encryption.'

Kenson looked up at Shepard, eyes wide. 'Do you know how long it has been?'

Faith ducked her head, trying to swallow down the bile in her stomach. 'Your team reported you captured five days ago. Will they have continued without you?'

'Yes. I gave the order explicitly that whatever happened, the Project needed to be completed, and activated as soon as it was ready.'

'The Project?'

Kenson nodded, as Shepard say down, mind reeling. They still had a little time, but if Kenson's team had not yet destroyed the relay, that could only mean the preparations were not ready.

The Reapers would arrive in two days. Could they possibly finish in time?

'That's what we called it.' Kenson's voice softened, a hint of humanity touching it. 'Nobody knows for certain what happens when a relay is destroyed, but they harbour enormous amounts of energy. Releasing it all at once... a supernova level explosion is the least we can expect. It'll destroy everything in the system, including the batarian colony.'

Shepard did not know what to feel. Kenson's words sparked nothing in her. Not pity or disgust, not, _thankfully_, excitement or anticipation.

Nothing.

There was just a sense of resignation. The batarians had to die, so the Reapers could be delayed.

Should over three hundred thousand deaths, not weigh more heavily?

Ninety thousand slavers would die. Faith did not discriminate between those who took the slaves and those who used them. There _was _no difference, other than a willingness to get their hands dirty. And Faith had no hesitation killing slavers. This was just... on a greater scale.

And two hundred and fifteen thousand slaves would be set free from hell.

Faith gave Kenson a cautious nod, and continued carefully, as if scared that disturbing her own serene acceptance would kick up a far more extreme response. '_Should_ your team have finished the Project by now?'

The Alliance agent stood and pulled down a spare, clean, semi-armoured uniform from one of the racks lining the passenger area of the batarian military shuttle, as well as a small, field medical kit . As Kenson stripped off the dirty outfit she was wearing, she continued. 'Yes. It was very close to completion when I was captured: it should have been activated by now. Until we get there, we won't know why it hasn't. We should reach the asteroid belt in three hours.'

As Kenson removed her top, Faith could see that her body was in poor shape. Most of her fresh wounds were still slowly seeping blood, and the burns a viscous pus, and for the first time Shepard saw a grimace of pain flash across Kenson's face as the rough material pulled against the wounds.

Faith's teeth bared in a snarl.

_Batarian scum._

Kenson pulled a medigel-soaked wipe from the med-kit, and after a second of incomprehension, placed it into Faith's outstretched hand, immediately turning her scarred back as she pulled another out. For close to forty minutes the pair cleaned and, when necessary, dressed Kenson's wounds in shared silence.

Faith felt a deep tension pulling at her gut as they worked.

The Reapers were on their way. _So _close.

And she was helpless to do anything. Until they got to the asteroid, there was nothing she could do.

When Kenson was finally dressed, she no longer looked like a rescued prisoner of war. A torn rag from her old clothes tied her silver hair back in a tail, and between her fresh outfit and angry eyes, she looked every inch the Alliance operative.

They both sat down in the cockpit of the shuttle again, Faith uncertain of what to say. When death was just over a day away, what else was there to say?

She thought of Liara.

One of the only reasons she had left, to fight this damned war.

With a sad sigh, Faith called up her omni-tool. Neither that nor the shuttle had suitable technology for making a secure call to Hagalaz, so she began typing, cursing her absolute lack of poetic ability.

_Dear Liara..._

* * *

'Switching to manual controls.'

Faith looked up from her message, after reading it over for the fifth time, surprised that she had to blink away moisture from her eyes. It was no proper way to say goodbye. Maybe Kenson had a more powerful communicator in the Project base that would allow a call... if she even had time, between rushing to finish and activate the Project, and actually escaping before the relay was destroyed.

For now, she archived the mail, to be sent when there was no further options.

_I __**will **__get this done. I will not let this be how it ends._

The asteroid belt loomed ahead of the shuttle, surprisingly close to the mass relay itself. The ancient piece of Reaper technology floated serenely in the distance, larger and brighter than any star.

The mass relays. The reason the species of the galaxy could live the way they did, would also be their downfall. If the Reapers followed the usual pattern the Citadel would fall first. The relays would be controlled and locked. Then the harvest would begin as dozens of tiny, separated fleets failed to make any unified defence against an unstoppable force.

She could not allow that to happen. If... _when... _she activated the Project and escaped, the gentle nudging tactics she, Garrus and Liara were operating would have to be stepped up. Governments would have to be bullied, bribed or blackmailed into preparations. Resources would have to be stockpiled. People needed to know what was coming.

A sick realisation spread through her.

She would have to use the destruction of Bahak. She _needed _people to believe it was the Reapers. Perhaps... perhaps something like that would provoke the galaxy into action.

The deaths of so many, might save billions more.

As she began to run through the best ways to do this in her mind, Kenson spoke again, hands now securely at the controls of the shuttle. 'Project base, this is Doctor Kenson. Come in, Project base.'

The comms hissed in response, before finally a male voice appeared at the other end. 'This is Project base. Please confirm.'

'Delay the Arrival.' Kenson spoke softly.

'Confirmed. Welcome back, ma'am.'

'Why hasn't the project been activated yet?' Kenson demanded. 'Commander Shepard just rescued me from the batarians, but it should be done by now!'

'We...' The comms fell silent, and Faith was instantly suspicious. Military people did not hesitate when reporting to senior officers. 'We weren't sure it was the right thing to do, ma'am.'

'What!' Both Faith and Kenson exclaimed simultaneously. 'Explain, now!' snapped Kenson.

'Ma'am, it's... the batarians, how do we know that killing them is the right thing to do?' The voice began to sound flustered.

'_You _don't,' snarled Kenson, face twisted. '_I _do, and _you _follow orders. Is the Project ready to be activated?'

'W... we finished it, but... but how can we just kill the batarians?'

'We are sacrificing them to give the galaxy a better chance to prepare for the Reapers!'

'But how do we _know _that?' the man replied, voice agitated.

At the words, Faith's suspicion instantly morphed into a deep, throbbing certainty. A certainty she had no hard evidence for, but a certainty nonetheless. She stabbed the "mute" button on the comms, feeling a sick dread pulse through her body. 'Your team is indoctrinated.' she said, speaking quickly. 'One of the first signs is doubting the Reapers' intentions. We need to get in there and activate the Project ourselves.'

'Damn!' Kenson slammed the butt of her fist against the frame of the cockpit. 'Damn, there's _dozens _of soldiers on the base!'

Kenson dropped her head, voice sounding angry. 'We were so careful...'

'There's nothing we can do for them now. It sounds like they aren't too far gone yet, so we aren't facing mindless fanatics. Tell them we'll discuss it once you've returned. We can improvise from there, depending on how they treat us.' Faith said, sounding a lot more confident than she felt. They still knew so little about indoctrination...

_I __**do **__know about indoctrination._

Some distant memory was kicked up as she spoke, as she heard the indoctrinated man talk. Whispers, formless words, ideas and knowledge like ghosts across her mind.

The knowledge of the Protheans, delivered by the beacon, deciphered by the cipher.

_They _knew the dangers of indoctrination.

They tried to warn the galaxy.

Only Shepard listened. Only she knew the truth. Now that she was faced with the insidious brainwashing, the knowledge seemed to come as if it were something drilled into her mind during training, as if it had always been there, but never needed, so never considered.

_How much more do I know?_

Kenson nodded, seeming to draw confidence from Faith's clear orders.

She opened the comms again. 'Acknowledged, Project base. I heard something on Aratoht that's given me doubts as well. I'll be docking in a batarian shuttle in fifteen minutes, disable the defences and we'll discuss other options when I arrive.'

Kenson adapted to the changing circumstance again with remarkable ease, and Faith again realised just how effective somebody like her could be as part of the Normandy's team.

The comms were silent for a few more seconds, before the voice spoke again, sounding less concerned, less agitated, than earlier. 'We have you on sensors, and defences are disabled. We'll see you soon, ma'am.'

* * *

_**A/N: **Thank you Jay8008 for beta reading. _

_I would also like to thank my readers for the continued support and feedback - you are all awesome :-)_


	26. Chapter 26

Samantha Traynor could not help but bounce her legs in excitement as the ship roared towards Arcturus Station.

An assignment!

She had only graduated her final on-the-job-training two weeks ago - top of her class, she reminded herself with a suppressed but still proud smile - and Admiral Hackett _himself _had called her, _in person, _and told her a transport was waiting to take her from the lab on Earth straight to the administrative heart of the Systems Alliance, for a once in a lifetime assignment.

She had already been headhunted for several positions, including one on board the brand new SSV Logan, a dreadnought that had not even made its maiden voyage, and had still not decided which position she would pursue when Hackett made the call. He had not even offered her the position - he had _assigned _her to it. This had briefly annoyed her, but she quickly realised that new graduates do _not _receive personal calls from Admiral Bloody Hackett.

She _knew _she was good at her work - and Hackett had to know it as well, to get in touch personally like he did. In all likelihood this assignment was an important one, maybe with the special forces, or an even more secretive branch of the Alliance. She was going somewhere her skills and training would be truly utilised.

She was a little nervous, of course - this was her first real assignment outside of training and the first where the only assessment would be her superior officers receiving accurate, clear data and using it to save lives - rather than silly marks on a test - but Samantha was confident.

She always gave her best efforts to her work, and then some... leading to some rather embarrassing situations during training exercises when she had completed the technical work, and tried to take the initiative and involve herself in actually using the data, suggesting strategies to her superior officers - who inevitably shot her down with a disapproving glare.

She would try not to overstep her bounds in whatever role Hackett placed her. She would do her job to the absolute best of her abilities, suck up to whomever needed sucking up to, get promoted, and maybe then she could actually help with the strategies she had spent so much of her spare time studying; she knew that whilst her technical skills were what got her recognised at school on Horizon, and were what she had been formally trained in, she was equally competent at strategic planning and eventually wanted a role involving _both._

That was the career plan anyway, she just hoped she had the patience to see it through, and didn't step on the toes of anybody with too much of a temper, or ego.

'How much longer until we get there?' She called over to the pilot, a young man in the seat beside her she had not spoken more a dozen words to throughout the flight. They were in a small, fast, personal ship; most likely a private hire usually used for diplomats. Why they had not sent a military craft to carry her was a small mystery, but Hackett _had _sounded like he was in a hurry. She had taken a quick kip earlier in the flight and hoped they would be there soon. She was _dying _to know what her new job was.

'A little over half an hour, I'll have to switch to full manual control soon.' The man glanced over, then down, eyes lingering a little too long on her well fitted Alliance uniform. She had to resist rolling her eyes. _Men. _'Erm... are you a soldier?'

'Communications and Information Warfare Specialist.' she answered brusquely, crossing her arms, hoping he would get the hint.

No such luck.

'That's good.' Suddenly he looked away awkwardly.

'Why?' she asked him, now curious.

'N-nothing.' He glanced over again, and Sam reassessed him. He didn't look much older than twenty, with messy brown hair, and skin only a tone or two lighter than her own. He seemed more clueless than especially smarmy or predatory. 'I-it's just you're... erm... very... _nice_... and-'

Sam wondered briefly whether she should put him out of his misery, but he was trying so hard, and deserved to at least finish. Maybe next time he tried with someone else, he would have more luck because of the practice.

'And I'm glad you won't be getting hurt.' the last few words tumbled from his mouth with barely a space between them, and he suddenly flushed, looking steadfastly at his controls.

'You... ah... don't speak to women very often, do you?' she asked, as gently as she could without smiling.

His blush darkened. 'Is it that obvious?'

Sam nodded. 'I'm afraid so.'

'I'm usually carrying boring important old men in suits, not - ah - people like you.'

She quirked an eyebrow at him. 'People like me?'

'I didn't mean anything bad!' he practically shouted, and Sam could not hold in her chuckle that time. 'Oh God. I think I'm going to just stop before I embarrass myself even more.' he muttered, still refusing to look at her.

_Poor sod._

The rest of the flight passed in an awkward silence, and when he finally popped the hatch of the docked craft, Sam gave him a smile. 'Thanks for flying me.'

He gave a shy smile in return. 'My pleasure. Erm... out of interest... did I...'

'Sorry, you weren't in with a shot.' She decided to lessen the blow when she saw his face fall. He was almost sweet, in an incredibly awkward way. 'Maybe if you were a woman I'd have given you a chance.'

Leaving the somewhat baffled pilot to figure that out by himself, she hopped from the craft with her large kit bag swung over her shoulder - jumping with a startled cry as she nearly barrelled straight into Admiral Hackett. She immediately straightened, snapping a salute as her bag fell to the ground with a crash.

'Sir!'

The admiral saluted cleanly in response, before ordering her to follow him. They trailed through the clean, twisting corridors of Arcturus for about five minutes - Sam gave up trying to memorise the journey after two - before emerging in a large mess.

'Do you want anything, Specialist Traynor?' asked Hackett as he stood by a drinks machine, making himself a black coffee. She had heard the man began his career as an enlisted soldier, working his way up the ranks to admiral the hard way - something nearly impossible in this age of favours and networks. She had also heard that soldiers had a special relationship with coffee. Would getting the same thing impress him?

She nearly asked for it when she mentally shook herself. She _hated _coffee, and the man would probably prefer she was honest. 'Tea please, sir.'

She knew an admiral getting drinks for a mere comms specialist was probably against some protocol or other, or at least an unwritten rule of etiquette, but she was remarkably grateful as he entered a complicated looking series of commands into the alien machine, before it began spraying a murky liquid into a plastic mug. Suddenly the luxuries of planet-based labs and schools seemed a long way away. He handed her the mug, before leading her to a vacant table.

As they both sat down, Hackett took a single sip of his coffee, before setting it down and beginning. 'You are probably wondering why I brought you here, Specialist. I've seen your record: top of your classes, with a real knack for working with both QECs and traditional comm systems. You'd be a great asset on any Alliance vessel.'

Sam took a sip of the tea. It was disgusting, as if made with a thrice used teabag.

_Which it probably was..._

She stayed silent, listening closely to the admiral.

'And we've taken notice of your... _extra curricular _reading.'

Her heart began to pound. She knew all books checked out of the library were recorded: she made sure she registered when she read strategic manuals - even when she stayed in the library reading - just in case somebody noticed her interest. Was this really happening?

'Do you want to work in a war room one day, Specialist?' asked the admiral bluntly.

She decided to be equally forward, before her brain could question itself. 'I want to _run _one, one day, sir.'

Hackett's scarred face broke into a slight smile, and she let out the breath she did not realise she was holding. So much for her carefully laid plan of hard, quiet work getting her to that position...

'Good, I like somebody who knows what they want. It means they'll work their ass off to get there.'

Without further notice, Hackett reached into his pocket and pulled out a small datapad, dropping it on the table in front of her.

_Speaking of what I want... _Sam nipped the thought in the bud before it could turn into anything less appropriate, as she looked down at the woman on the datapad.

'Do you know who this is?' he asked. She looked up, and saw his pale blue eyes studying her closely.

'Samantha's eyes went back to the photo before her. 'I think everybody knows who this is, sir,' she answered quietly. It was a standard service record photograph. The woman looked a lot younger than she did in more recent images; fresher faced with something of a rosy tinge to her unmarked skin, though Sam was startled by how _empty _her expression was. She was not sure whether that was better or worse than the usual determined grimace she saw on most of her recent photos.

Hackett continued, 'What do you know about her?'

'Most of her unsealed service record sir, and of course what was published in the media when she became a Spectre.' Some of which was no doubt classified, but there was no point denying it; everybody had read it.

'What do you think of her?' Another blunt question. What was he getting at?

'I think she's an inspiration to us all, sir.'

'And why do you say that? Are you aware that the Alliance disavowed her, for ties to the terrorist group Cerberus?' Hackett leaned forward on the table, coffee forgotten.

'I... I assumed there was some... ah... _legitimate_... explanation for that, sir?' Samantha felt herself desperately wishing the conversation to skip to the part where the admiral revealed that Shepard had been on an Alliance covert operation the entire time.

'It's the truth, Traynor. She worked with Cerberus for close to five months... that we know of. Her two years disappearance have her completely off the grid; who knows what she did during that time?'

The revelation knocked Sam's confidence... in herself. Not in Shepard. 'She... she stopped the Collectors, though, sir, maybe she was just using them-' _Because the Alliance would not help her. Would not help the colonists... my family._

She bit her tongue before she could continue.

'You believe in her.' It was not a question.

Traynor swallowed nervously. 'Sir, with great respect... this feels like I'm being prompted to give... ah... _career-damaging _responses.'

Hackett shook his head slightly, his expression unchanged. 'Consider this conversation off the record. I want to hear what _you _think, not what you think I want to hear.'

Sam replied with a somewhat shaky smile. 'She's Commander Shepard, sir. She saved the Citadel, sir. She defeated the Collectors, so the story goes - and there's been no sign of them since, so I think it is...' Realising she was close to rambling nervously, she calmed herself and cut to the heart of the matter. 'She saved my _home _on Horizon. If I... _we_... can't trust her...' she finished with a helpless shrug.

Hackett seemed to think on this a while, and Sam was dangerously close to fidgeting uncomfortably when he finally spoke up again. 'At twenty hundred hours, you will report to docking bay A8 where a shuttle will arrive that will take you to Spectre Shepard's ship. Your assignment is to operate as her communications specialist, and I suspect she will have further responsibilities for you. You might get your war room before you expected.'

Sam's mind melted. Was this a joke? A test? A... a dream?

'You will also act as her Alliance liaison. As I said she is no longer associated with the Alliance, but it is in neither of our interests to cut ties. She is still our first and only Spectre. We are still the people that trained her, the people that represent her species on the galactic stage. Anything she wants with us, it goes through you. Anything we want with her, it goes through you. Your rank will stay the same for the duration of this assignment, though any work you do will be considered when you return to us. Your pay will be temporarily bolstered to represent your extra responsibilities.'

She was still struggling with the concept. Her? Working with Commander Shepard? She knew the woman operated a frigate, which only had room for a single person with her skill set... was it to _all _be her responsibility?

'Do you understand and accept this assignment, Specialist Traynor?'

She felt herself nodding distantly, before realising she probably looked like an idiot. She _was _ready. This is what she trained for, what she _wanted. _And to serve under the legendary Commander Shepard? That was a job she could only dream of. She nodded more firmly, holding Hackett's steel gaze.

'Yes, sir. I'll do the Alliance proud.'

'I'm glad to hear it.' Hackett gestured to her large pack. 'You'll need to get rid of at least half of that. One footlocker, Traynor. You're free to explore the station until then; anywhere you're not allowed will have secure doors.'

As they both pushed their chairs out, Traynor managed to splutter out the obvious question before she had to interrupt Hackett standing. 'Why me, sir?'

The admiral ceased his motion, and again looked thoughtful. 'I chose you because you're new, Traynor. You can't be set in your ways and work under Shepard, because even I don't fully understand what it is I'm assigning you to. She's a free agent. This won't be Alliance service, and you can't go in with preconceptions of what you should and should not be doing. And I need to send someone who's at least as loyal to her as you are to us.'

Her blood turned to ice. 'Are you talking about... the Reapers, sir?'

She had heard Shepard's warnings, of course... but it seemed so... _fantastic_. So far away, so absolutely unbelievable, so terrifying because one lowly communications specialist could do _nothing _against a force like Shepard described.

The admiral, after a moment, nodded once.

'Sir,' she continued after a moment, instinctively feeling the need to whisper, 'Are you confirming that the Reapers are... are _real_?'

The old man's face was a map of scars, creases and long-endured stresses. His stoic expression did not change as he gave another single nod. A deep fear struck through Sam. This was actually happening? When it was Shepard talking, it could be filed away in her mind as something that heroes dealt with, that the might of the Alliance would face. Not a slightly besotted young woman who could collate data feeds and enjoyed _chess_...

'You have your orders.' His clipped words broke through her worries. Yes. She was an Alliance woman, and did not let her fear rule her_. _Shepard would not approve of her getting _scared. _'Report to docking bay A8 at twenty hundred hours. You're dismissed, Specialist Traynor.' He stood, suddenly looking very tired. His next words were a deep mutter, far from the clear military orders she had so far heard from the man, as if they were to himself more than her. 'I'm sorry, because I think you're going to see hell itself.'

* * *

The Project base gave Faith the chills. There was now no doubt in her mind that the soldiers stationed here were indoctrinated: something about them, on the whole, was _off. _They were arguing with Kenson far too vehemently for military people, who were supposed to follow orders. When they weren't, their eyes became slightly glazed, staring into nothing before something prompted them back to the present.

They had been greeted by a group of soldiers at the docking bay, whom Kenson had led through the base towards the Project control centre.

Faith was nervous. The Project was operated by close to forty people, fifteen of them soldiers, _all _of them military. She was good, one of the best, but even she did not like those odds.

Kenson would not be able to convince them the Project had to go ahead. Indoctrination, Faith knew on some deep, instinctive level, had never been successfully reversed by the Protheans. However, it _was _a gradual process, hence why these soldiers had not yet attacked them: they still had some semblance of control over their actions, and were acting in what they _believed _was the best interest, just like Saren was at the start. So what was the plan?

Get as close as possible to Project control without the soldiers noticing their true intent, before neutralising their escort, activating the rockets that would slam the asteroid into the mass relay and fighting a way out to the shuttles, and taking one through the relay before the asteroid impacted it.

Dangerous. Practically suicidal: heavily outnumbered, definitely outgunned.

But the Project _had _to be activated. Anything else was secondary.

Even... even survival.

A flash of cerulean seared through her mind. Brilliant eyes, sensual lips, soothing voice.

She would not die here. Not when Liara was relying on her, expecting her to come back.

'Have you recorded any further activity from Object Rho?' Kenson asked their escort as they strode through the base. Shepard could not help but notice that the other soldiers repeatedly glanced in her direction.

The very _air _of the base felt wrong.

It reminded her of Sovereign. Seeing the Reaper soaring ahead of her as she and her team traversed the exterior of the Citadel. She had felt _terrified _then. Not just scared: she often felt that, but harnessed it, forced it down and formed it into something real, something she could use to push herself onwards. It was terror. Pure terror: how could she fight something like that? It was a _God. _Its presence permeated existence around it. She was doomed. They were all doomed.

But she had fought on.

Because she had known that terror before. A sixteen year old girl whose life had been obliterated. Happiness torn away, leaving just a shell full of fear and pain. How could anything ever be right again, after that? But things _had _become better. Slowly but surely, she had recovered, eventually learning to live and even love again. She turned the fear and pain into anger and strength. And she stood before her team and ordered them onwards, her confidence inspiring them to face down and _defeat _that impossible foe.

It reminded her of the Collector Base. Of the human Reaper the Collectors were creating. She had felt _sick _then. That abomination, poisoning the air around it. Her _own people _were made into that atrocity, tens of thousands melted down to form that core of that disgusting creature, that false image of perfection. It was _wrong, _and she ended it.

As the Reaper died, after it had so cruelly taken Miranda's life, it had chilled the very air around it. The death of a false God. A sense of emptiness had rocked through Shepard then, as she watched it, arms splayed, fall slowly backwards into the abyss of the base.

That same feeling was in every pore of the base. Something about the Reapers corrupted existence around them, as if manipulating reality was to them no more trouble than manipulating metal was to a blacksmith.

There was _something _on this base.

Something terrible.

Something that filled her with dread.

Whatever precautions Kenson and her team had taken, were not enough. Shepard clenched her teeth against the fact that the tendrils of the Reapers could be creeping into her at that very moment and she did not know it. Kenson appeared to be on her side, but could she be sure?

Suddenly the horrors of indoctrination became all the more apparent. It was not just the threat of Reaper agents... it was the fear. The suspicion it made you feel of others. The terror that it could be happening to you.

_How can we fight that?_

'Answer me soldier, has anything happened with Object Rho?'

The soldiers glanced nervously at each other.

Faith slowly shifted her hand closer to the pistol holstered at her side, and took a mental note of the locations of all hostiles (_not hostile yet, there may be time...)_ in the room. One on either side of her. She knew several manoeuvres to take them down, lethally and non-lethally.

Best to be safe.

Three soldiers around Kenson: the woman could probably not handle them in her weakened state, but was hopefully skilled enough to distract them for long enough that Faith could neutralise her own escort, and turn her weapons on them.

Cover was minimal, and what there was, was not sturdy. It was a common room of some kind, with solid walls at either end, and one small room that looked like a lab to the right partitioned off with a clear wall. The lab contained one man, operating a terminal, wearing a lab coat. Likely unarmed; she could not see any bulges in his coat , but she could not take any chances.

'Mostly the same readings as normal ma'am,' answered one of Kenson's followers eventually.

'What do you mean by "mostly?"' Kenson prompted as they passed the threshold of the common room, entering a long corridor.

'It's... a little more... _active_, ma'am.'

'Active?' Shepard asked, the feeling of dread increasing.

All of the soldiers turned to look at her.

Shepard's heartbeat began to hammer her chest. They were reaching the limits of how far they could push these people. They were still fully functional, mentally and physically: Saren's own words, back during her hunting him, confirmed that the further entrenched to the Reapers' will a person was, the less functional they became.

What were these men and women going through? Were there whispers in the back of their minds? A feeling of disconnection, of the body not acting as the mind wanted? Or had they been fundamentally _altered, _like the geth heretics, to believe that the Reapers might have any purpose other than to extinguish organic life?

If she pushed them too far, what would happen?

'Erm...' One of the soldiers by Kenson looked, face concerned, at Shepard, then his face cleared. 'Yes. It's glowing now.'

_How much further to Project control?_

The dread feeling deepened. Something _terrible _was happening here. Was Kenson feeling this as well?

They entered a small, empty room, with two doors ahead of them. Kenson immediately headed for the one on the right, when one of the soldiers touched her shoulder.

'Ma'am, don't you want to see the artefact?' Kenson turned into the soldiers grasp, and caught Shepard's eye for the briefest second. This was it. The area was small which would assist Shepard and Kenson: the soldiers would have no room to do anything other than brawl.

'I'm checking on the status of the Project first.'

_God what is this, the presence in here is nearly unbearable!_

Faith felt as if the very air around her was about to rupture, like the pressure dropping before a storm.

'No! You-'

Whatever the soldier was about to say, he did not get the chance. Kenson's flat hand lashed out, jabbing hard into his neck, the fabric of his armour doing nothing to protect his throat as he suddenly dropped to his knees, struggling for breath through a collapsed throat. Faith did not waste any time, spinning and grabbing one of the soldiers at her side, wrenching the heavily armoured woman around as the other raised his weapon. Bullets tore into the armoured woman Faith held in place, the impact rocking her own body. Shepard pushed the now limp body towards the shocked man, following behind as the corpse knocked him off balance before slipping around him and wrenching his neck, a sickening crack echoing throughout the room even as Faith pulled out her pistol and brought it to bear on the soldiers around Kenson. A whispered shot dropped a mab trying to ready his weapon, as the operative wrestled with the other.

Faith could not get a clear shot, and was about to move in closer when another crack sounded, and the soldier dropped to the floor, with Kenson now holding his handgun.

'We need to move, grab a rifle and-' Faith began, only to stop as the pressure in the room finally burst.

**Shepard...**

**Your mind will be mine.**

* * *

'Liara, are you ok?'

Garrus does not wait for an answer this time. It is the third time he has asked... the third time he has caught me gazing away from my terminal. Before I can speak, he rises from his own terminal and crosses over to me. 'I think we're done for the day, I'm pretty sure Shepard would _literally _shoot me if I let you pass out from exhaustion.'

Thinking of Faith pulls a smile across my face, though my thoughts are troubled. I cannot help but feel something is wrong; she is on _such _a dangerous mission, and work can only distract me to a point.

'That sounds like a good idea, Garrus.'

He leads me from my terminal to one of the couches Faith and I moved from the living quarters of the now dead mercenary army into the main operations room, and though the sensation dissipates in seconds, I gratefully sink into the soft leather as Garrus disappears behind me, noises of the drinks machine filling the room. I take a quick glance and feel a deep affection as he, unarmoured as usual in these days without ground missions, busies himself to make tea, clumsy talons knocking over more than one mug designed for slender asari and human fingers. If I ever had an older sibling, protective like Faith used to be of her sisters, I imagine this is what it would be like.

Finally he hands me the tea, and sits down as well. 'It's probably stupid to say "don't worry about her", isn't it?' he asks, twitching his mandibles in a small "smile".

'Most likely.' I smile in return. 'If there is anybody who could break into a batarian torture camp, rescue a prisoner, break out again and secure a Reaper artefact deep in hostile space... _alone_... it would be her, but that does not stop me worrying.'

'I can only imagine. If there's anything I can do...'

'I will ask, thank you Garrus.' Sadly there is not, but it is nice to speak to him about something other than work for a few minutes. 'Forgive me for being forward, but I still feel as though I missed so much of you as you fought the Collectors... might I ask about yourself and Tali?'

There is a brief flutter from his mandibles before he contains himself, and I detect that he is slightly embarrassed by his own reaction. 'Oh. Of course! I'm worried about her, also. I mean, it's not a fair comparison... and she's safe on a ship, docked on a peaceful world. But it's hard not to worry, even when it doesn't make a lot of sense.'

I chuckle, thinking of the many things I know about Illium. She will be safe, no doubt, but Illium is by no means peaceful. 'May I ask... how the two of you grew close? I did not suspect anything on the first Normandy.'

I take a sip of the tea as he gathers his thoughts, and try to resist scrunching my face. Something clearly went wrong with the drinks machine, but one of the foremost rules of etiquette is to gratefully accept any refreshment... a whisper from my previous life, but one I cannot let go of.

'There wasn't anything to suspect, back then. We were friends, but no more than that. I think I flirted with _Wrex _more than her.'

What an image!

'I guess we got closer after the mess on the Flotilla. Shepard tried _so _hard, railing at those damned admirals, but they'd made their minds up before Tali had even arrived. It was never about her at all, those bastards just needed a scapegoat to play out their own little power fantasies.'

'Tali is so devoted to her people. To have been used by them in such a manner - it must have been horrible for her!'

Garrus gives a nod, a very asari... and human... gesture he has picked up from so long on the Normandys. 'Well, afterwards she just threw herself into her work... Shepard tried but couldn't get through, and eventually asked me to speak to her - force her to have a night off. She was worried that Tali hated her, for letting her down. We shared a bottle of turian brandy in the gun battery and after a while she just...'

He looks down at his talons. 'She _knew _it wasn't Shepard's fault, she'd asked her to withhold evidence she knew would clear her. I guess she just needed to air it all out to someone else. She...' he trails off, clearly respecting Tali's privacy, before continuing. 'Afterwards, she went and finally had a good talk with Shepard then came and thanked me. We spent more and more time together after that, then one day Kelly asked me if it was something serious... I'd never even thought about it, but as soon as she asked I realised it was.'

'I am glad both of you have found happiness.' The image of the turian and quarian together always brings a smile to my face; their dynamics are adorable, bickering like decades-together bondmates. 'Do you have any difficulties, being different species?'

Asari frequently, and are known for, joining relationships with aliens, but outside of my race the practice of separate species becoming involved with one another is far less common. We are educated in these things: customs, physical preferences and much more, but most other species are not taught beyond basic anatomy and brief outlines of culture.

'A few. We're taking things slowly, especially with Tali's suit, but I imagine we're dealing with it the same way you and Shepard do, Liara. Slowly, with trial and error, and some _reaaally _awkward extranet searches.'

I laugh, thinking of when I walked in on her and thought she was browsing erotic websites for pleasure, but was in fact researching different ways to please asari because she was embarrassed to ask...

Goddess, I miss her!

* * *

Faith dropped to her knees, clutching her hands to her head at the roaring, _familiar,_ voice.

She could see Kenson just ahead of her, doing the same thing.

'N...no...' she groaned out through clenched teeth.

**Your galaxy is in sight. **

**Your final days are at hand.**

_No, it can't be now, it _can't _be, we have over a day! We can still do this!_

But what if they couldn't? What if the Reapers were already there, ready to destroy them?

She had failed.

Humanity would be harvested.

Earth, Thessia, Palaven, and _all _worlds would burn.

Her friends would die.

Everything she knew and loved would be crushed.

Liara would-

_No!_

_No, not yet!_

**Do not resist. **

**Give yourself over and be spared.**

_Lies!_

'No!' she shouted out, more forceful this time, feeling the oppressive atmosphere breaking.

It was a trick.

She forced herself to her feet.

'I know you Harbinger_, _you won't take me today!'

**Struggle if you wish.**

**The end of your species will come.**

'Shut up!' she snarled, and miraculously, the voice did.

She stumbled over to the writhing Alliance operative, grabbing an M-8 Avenger from the corpse of one of the Project soldiers on the way. Five down, ten to go... plus the others on the base. Not as heavily armed or well trained, but dangerous nonetheless for their numbers. 'Kenson, get up!' she snapped in her best drill sergeant voice, pleased when the silver haired woman finally stopped shaking on the floor and looked up to her, eyes still full of fear.

'My God, what was that? Was that them?' slurred Kenson, as Faith hauled her to her feet.

'Yes. We need to move, how far to Project control?'

'How can we fight that? That was just their _voice, _how can we-'

'Snap out of it! We can fight it by _never _giving up, by fighting to the last! Now _how far?_'

Kenson took a deep breath, and Faith kept her eyes, knowing that _her _strength was what Kenson needed right now. Eventually, she felt the older woman stop shaking in her grasp, and Kenson finally ducked to the ground and grabbed a rifle of her own. 'Just two more rooms, there shouldn't be anybody in the way.'

Just as they set off, a blaring siren sounded throughout the station. 'It's the alarm!' Kenson called over the din, 'they'll be converging on our location!'

'Then _move_!' Faith replied, as the pair set off down the door on the right, Kenson taking point and Faith covering the rear; seeing as she was wearing the only one wearing any sort of armour and opposition would most likely come from behind.

It was tempting to rush, but both were trained fighters and knew that missing a corner could be the end of them so progress was slower than they would like through the remaining rooms, and by the time they reached the Project control centre Faith was getting nervous that the other soldiers in the base had not yet closed in on them. A quick glance across the room confirmed her worries: there were two entrances. The others were likely organising a pincer attack.

'Activate the Project, I'll cover the doors!' Faith called, and Kenson nodded, throwing her the other rifle, and immediately took up position by a large console at the back of the room. Scowling, Faith saw there was little in the way of cover in the room. She would have to kill her foes fast, so they could not get a foothold... or a bead on the unarmoured Alliance operative.

'They've changed the security lockdowns, I need to override it, it'll take a few minutes!'

'Shit...' Faith looked between the doors. This was not going to be easy. She pulled out a grenade: she had only brought two, not imagining she would need to fight off a full complement of soldiers. It was probably too much to hope they would not send the operations crew and scientists as well.

With a growl, Faith checked the heat sinks in both of the assault rifles, laid one on the ground, laid her pistol alongside it, and waited.

* * *

Specialist Henderson was a simple man. He had grown up on Earth, gotten above average grades at school; not excelling but good nonetheless, and was lucky enough that the Alliance decided to sponsor him through university due to his particular skillset, in return for five years' active service.

He was good with rockets. Thrust, propellants, aerodynamics, all seemed to come together for him, into something he understood.

This was the first time he had worked anywhere other than a lab. His girlfriend had been so worried when he was chosen to accompany Doctor Kenson, but he had reassured her he would be fine. He was just a scientist. Scientists didn't have to fight.

The heavily armoured sergeant pushed a gun into his hand. 'Get in there!'

He grinned. He did not question why he was so excited, or worry that he had not fired a gun since he last scraped past the annual firearms proficiency requirement... nine months ago. The women in there needed to be stopped: they were doing something _awful, _and he needed to stop them.

He _would _stop them.

He had been waiting at the other entrance to the control centre when the bitch in tight black armour with evil eyes had ruptured the corridor wall, exposing it and the soldiers in it to the vacuum, so he had run with the others through the base to the other door.

Now he had his chance.

He made his way through the corridor leading to the control centre with three others, stepping around the bodies.

She had to be getting tired now.

The door ahead opened, and his team charged through, full of righteous anger. One of them tripped on another corpse.

The corpse was wearing armour.

He wasn't.

He didn't care.

He _had _to stop them.

He saw one of the women, back turned, blood pumping from a wound in her thigh, furiously tapping at a console at the back of the room.

Doctor Kenson. His old superior officer.

Trying to activate it. Trying to activate _his _work.

That was... _bad. _Wasn't it?

He paused, considering the unusual thoughts, but instantly felt the doubts melt away, replaced by a wonderful clarity. He raised his gun. Right now, Kenson _needed _to be stopped, from doing something terrible. He would figure out _why _later.

He did not see the black shadow approach him from the side.

* * *

Faith pulled her knife from the back of a man wearing a lab coat, scowling at how foolishly he, and so many of the others she had killed, had died today. She called over to Kenson, who had unfortunately taken a bullet but was still working. 'How much longer? I think the soldiers are all dead now, they're sending in the scientists - and they must be running out of them as well!'

She had gotten lucky; one of her grenades had shattered the corridor they had entered through, exposing it and the at least five soldiers in it, to the vacuum outside and immediately sealing the automatic bulkheads. The fortunate accident reduced both the opposition and the threat of a two-pronged attack, and the tight corridor on the other side had funnelled the remaining Alliance personnel - _Reaper agents, they stopped being Alliance when Harbinger took their minds _- into a deadly bottleneck. There were at least twenty bodies in the corridor and around the door, but they just kept coming with no thought to personal safety or tactics or _anything _other than overwhelming her through force of numbers. When they were unarmoured, it was little better than a grim, bloody, target practice.

'Almost... there, Commander!' Kenson shouted back, clearly in pain, but still working.

Faith hated defence. It was not what she was built for. And she could not be sure how many were left, when she was simply waiting for them to come to her. She made her way back towards Kenson, to provide something of a human shield for the unarmoured, unshielded operative.

The automatic door, bouncing half-closed against a corpse wedged in the frame, hissed fully open again revealing a single armoured man who dropped to one knee, raking blind automatic fire throughout the room. Kenson ducked to the ground again, crying out in pain at the pressure this put on her injured leg before Faith, feeling a _thump _against her chest as a stray shot impacted her shield, took a full second to line up an accurate shot which punctured the man's head.

She helped Kenson to her feet as a deathly silence filled the room. 'He was just one,' Faith said, as Kenson resumed typing. 'He could be the last.'

Kenson remained silent, and Faith risked a glance away from the door, seeing the pain etched into the Alliance operative's face. Not just for the bullet, she imagined: Faith had just slaughtered her entire team.

'We'll make their sacrifice worth it, Kenson,' she added quietly.

The room stayed quiet other than the gentle noise of the Doctor operating the terminal, before she finally took a tender hop backwards, keeping the weight on her good leg. 'It's done; I've overridden the security. We just need to activate it.'

Satisfied that the threat had ended for now, but keeping the safety off her pistol, Faith turned to the console. 'What are you waiting for?'

Kenson gestured to another, smaller terminal to the side. 'That's a comms device. We were going to use it to broadcast a warning to Aratoht, to give the batarians a chance to escape. If the countdown is right, they still have over a day. They could evacuate most of the colony if they start now.'

Faith looked at the simple console, feeling her chest begin to pound with something other than the rush of battle.

But her mind was clear. There was no indecision, no worry, no _guilt_, in the realisation of what she needed to do.

She grabbed Kenson's shoulder as the woman made her way to the communicator.

'No.'

* * *

**_A/N: _**_Thank you Jay8008 for beta reading._


	27. Chapter 27

The shuttle was a damned mess. It seemed like whoever was flying it had crashed, rather than landed it, causing significant damage to bodywork. Most of the physical repairs had already been completed, but Lieutenant Steve Cortez hated seeing a craft beaten up like this. It was functional, sure, but it looked like a second hand skycar fit for a kid, not a piece of military equipment.

He slid underneath the raised vehicle on his creeper, and began filling in the numerous scrapes and dents and gouges with a liquid composite that quickly solidified when exposed to air, and was careful to smooth the repairs over with a scraper before it set.

The work was both exacting and ultimately futile, as the same pilot would probably rough it up next time he or she landed, but it kept his mind clear and focused, and the commander of the flight deck did not mind Steve working here in his off hours.

Finally satisfied the worst of the physical damage was repaired, he holstered the applicator on his tool belt, and pulled out the spray paint, careful to ensure his face mask was secure before setting to work. A brilliant navy blue mist filled his vision, covering over the yellow repair compound, drowning out the wounds of the vehicle. Up close, he could still see them: nearly imperceptible lines giving the damage away, and he knew if stress was placed on them they would be the first places to falter.

But from a distance, everything would be perfect. Clean. Functional. Nobody would know the damage.

'**Admiral on deck!'**

The call rang out through his headwear, across the subtle hiss of his spray paint gun, but he did not heed it: on a busy flight deck, Alliance personnel were largely excused from some of the usual rules of etiquette around senior officers. Properly functioning craft were far more important than stiff salutes.

After several more minutes, he was satisfied by the even navy blue across the bottom of the shuttle, and decided to take another look at the thrusters. There, at least, the pilot seemed to know what they were doing: slightly modified from Alliance standard to give greater thrust. But they were also a little lax on upkeep: there was a significant build up of scorch marks he was sure he could clean with a few hours of hard elbow grease and a heavy duty scrubber. It would keep him busy, and exhaust him before bed.

_Perfect._

Steve slid his creeper from under the UT-47A Kodiak, surprised to see a pair of clean, polished, black boots fill his vision. Whomever they were attached to was proud of them: they were old, and he could see signs of extensive use, but rather than buy new ones the owner had chosen to maintain these. Steve approved.

He pushed up his mask, and saw Admiral Steven Hackett looming over him with the commander of the flight deck, Major Rohit Mitra, standing to the side.

Cortez immediately stiffened, and stood, saluting cleanly.

The admiral saluted in return. 'At ease, Lieutenant Cortez.'

As Steve shifted to a parade rest, the admiral turned. 'Thank you, Major, please give us some privacy.'

The dark skinned man saluted and left, leaving Steve alone with the admiral, sounds of the busy flight deck surrounding them. Hackett seemed to assess Steve for a moment, eyes lingering on his tool belt, then shifted his gaze to the shuttle. After several uncomfortable moments, the older man spoke again. 'The major tells me you spend a lot of time here, doing work most would say you are overqualified for. That's aside from your regular duties, I might add.'

Steve wondered where the admiral was going with this. He was unlikely to be reprimanded for working too _much_... right?

'He also told me you recently suffered a personal loss, and have not taken any of the leave you are entitled to.'

The line of questioning suddenly made sense, though why an _admiral _was interested was still a mystery. He was nobody special: not interested in advancing his career beyond where he currently was, happy to use his skills and work as part of a team, rather than lead.

'I prefer to work, sir.'

The grizzled admiral nodded. 'I can understand that. It's not my place to tell you how to grieve.'

Maybe one day he could allow himself to...

He bit back the rush of emotions, forced himself back into a work mindset. He was still not ready.

'I've come to you because I have an unusual assignment, and after putting out a few feelers, Major Mitra suggested you might be willing to take it.' The admiral handed Steve a datapad.

Steve saw a long list of responsibilities, and suddenly understood what the admiral meant by "unusual". At the top of the list, was to pilot a combat shuttle in hostile territory, deploying and extracting a small squad of commandos on high-risk assignments.

At the bottom of the list, was cleaning the plumbing on a frigate.

Many pilots who operated in combat environments like that were arrogant, expecting their skills behind the controls of a vehicle to be the only ones used, and would refuse to get involved in maintenance beyond looking after their own ship... their skills making them too valuable to lose through disciplinary action. Steve had no such qualms: he had grown up and lived in an environment where everybody was expected to fill in on every job. Colony life left little in the way of choice for those who wanted their communities to prosper.

The list of responsibilities was extensive: it would keep him far busier than his current assignment, where he often found himself looking for extra ways to make himself useful... such as performing unnecessary aesthetic repairs to a shuttle.

'I'd be happy to perform these jobs, sir. Though...'

Hackett nodded, anticipating his question. 'Speak freely, Cortez.'

Steve continued, 'I've never heard of a position like this on an Alliance vessel. Even the smaller frigates have multiple personnel carrying out this range of duties.'

'That's right, Lieutenant. But this job won't be on an Alliance vessel. It's a special assignment, outside the normal command structure... and you'll be under the command of a non-Alliance officer.' Hackett spoke without emotion, watching Steve intently, clearly to judge his reaction.

'I'm not sure I follow, sir?'

Hackett suddenly turned, and looked away, stiff posture dropping almost imperceptibly. 'The Alliance handled the Collectors badly, Lieutenant. It is something we should have dedicated more resource, more attention to.'

Steve did not say anything. If the Alliance had done something, perhaps his Robert would still be alive. He tried to banish the bitter thought, but it proved stubborn. He had joined the Alliance to _protect _people... but they could not even protect their own. _He _could not protect that which was most precious to him.

_Robert..._

Steve _still _missed him. Strong arms wrapped around him. Soothing voice in his ear. A sense of humour that just made Steve laugh and laugh until it hurt.

All gone.

'And though I can't apologise for the whole of the Alliance, for what it's worth, I'm sorry.'

The admiral turned back to him, and Steve avoided the gaze, determined that the admiral not see his weakness. Hackett continued as if he did not notice. 'This assignment is to serve under the one who _did _something about the Collectors.'

Steve had heard the rumours. How she came back from the dead, to save the human colonists in the Terminus systems by leading a suicide mission through the Omega 4 Relay... only to come back _again._ 'Do you mean Commander Shepard, sir?'

Hackett nodded. 'Former Lieutenant Commander... _Spectre_... Shepard is outfitting a crew. If you accept, you will be immediately assigned to her ship with the responsibilities listed on that datapad.'

'I accept, sir.' There was no hesitation. Shepard had avenged his loss, and though the consolation was tiny, it was just about all that kept him going. The ones who took Robert were dead because of her. Whether she needed him to fly her into combat or to clean the pipes on her ship, he would do it.

Hackett raised an eyebrow, but did not question his enthusiasm. 'Do you have any other questions, Lieutenant Cortez?'

'Where do I need to be, and when, sir?'

* * *

Faith's mind was clear. There was no indecision, no worry, no _guilt_, in the realisation of what she needed to do.

She grabbed Kenson's shoulder as the woman made her way to the communicator.

'No.'

Kenson jerked her head around to look at Shepard. 'What?'

'We can't do that. There's no way the batarians would actually believe an anonymous message that their system was about to be destroyed. Also, if you send that, there's a chance it will come back to bite us. It's proof that somebody planned this. We can't allow the batarians to start a war over this, and we _need _to figure out a way to blame this on the Reapers, to kick the galaxy into action.'

The silence that followed that was oppressive. 'You would deny three hundred thousand innocents a _chance, _for that?' Kenson ventured after several seconds.

'_Innocents?_' Faith snarled, anger flaring up. 'The only innocents on that planet are the slaves, and do you think _they'll _be the ones escaping? It'll be their slaving masters, leaving them to die, so _they _can live on and ruin thousands _more _lives!'

Kenson frowned. 'Is _that _why you're so eager to do this? I'm no apologist but there's more to batarians than slavers and slaves!'

'No!' Faith forced a lot more certainty into the word than she felt in her heart. If she were standing here, ready to wipe out the colony, and the Reapers _weren't _coming... would she do it anyway? She honestly did not know. That the answer was not immediately _no_...

'You know as well as I the batarians won't listen. We can't risk a _war _to send a message just to make ourselves feel better! This is to stop the _Reapers_.'

Faith looked to the ground. 'When they arrive, there'll be that many people dying by the _hour. _More, even. This gives us _months _of time to prepare. It's worth it. It _has _to be worth it.'

_Because, if it isn't... what will this be for?_

Kenson paused, then jabbed a finger at Shepard. 'This is on _your _hands.'

Faith's temper flared again, but she did not allow it to touch her face. So this was how it was to be... the Alliance send her on this mission, the Alliance plan to destroy a batarian colony with a _thoroughly _unsatisfactory way to make themselves feel better that warning had been issued... and _she _pushes the button, gets the blame, takes the responsibility.

She wanted to spit the retort back at Kenson, but did not. She suspected Kenson agreed with her deep down... but she had just lost her entire team to indoctrination, to Faith's weapons, and the burden of three hundred thousand souls was a huge one to bear. She would allow the elder woman her anger.

'Fine,' said Faith finally, 'I'll do it.' She crossed to the Project console, and entered the final activation command, a simple control that was flaring it her in a pleasant green, absurdly cheerful for the death and destruction it was to cause.

There was an immediate, almost imperceptible lurch, before the dampeners build into the base kicked in again, and Faith knew the Project was now active. 'We need to get out of here. The batarian shuttle would be better, in case anybody's monitoring the relay.'

Kenson glanced again at the communicator, but the gaze that caught Faith's was blank. Kenson had packed away her feelings, just as she herself did so often. 'Then let's move, it'll take about two hours for the asteroid to reach the relay. There's a VI installed to guide it.'

Faith nodded, and after briefly stopping to tend to the gunshot to Kenson's thigh, the pair silently made their way over the grim pile of torn flesh that used to be a full Alliance team, through the tight corridors of the base, now eerily silent without anybody occupying it.

Determined to break the grim silence, Faith's mind latched on to a possibility, and she turned to Doctor Kenson, whose arm was wrapped around Faith's shoulder as she hobbled on an injured leg, and asked, 'You are a doctor: what is your speciality?'

Kenson looked at her curiously, but spoke quickly. 'I graduated in aerospace engineering on Earth, before we had even discovered the Mars archives.' Faith quickly calculated that made Doctor Kenson at least sixty years old. She looked in remarkably good shape for somebody who had not grown up with some of the alien medical techniques humans now used to slightly slow the ageing process.

'I was part of the team that ended up exploring the tech we found, and was fascinated by it. Since then I've specialised in mass effect technology, and its application from the relays to small arms. I do a lot of my work by adapting what we know about ancient cultures, mostly the Protheans, into something we can use today.'

Faith felt a tug of affection: no doubt Kenson and Liara would be able to discuss the ancient civilisation for days. But... _small arms_... She had a position still vacant on her ship. Mordin had done excellent work researching and applying upgrades to their armour and weapons, and she wanted somebody to fill that gap. She had planned to have Liara scour the galaxy for somebody suitable, but Kenson was right here, she had already proven her toughness beyond a doubt, and she clearly knew as much about the Reapers as anybody could. She was not limited in her field of expertise, and could add a lot more to the crews' skillset than just weapon research. She was also clearly a keen strategist: having set up an operation like this, mistakes regarding indoctrination procedures aside (which, Faith supposed, could be attributed as much to herself as the doctor, seeing how little was known about it,) was an impressive feat for a single woman, doubly so one trained as a scientist, not a soldier. She would be a great asset in planning missions and operations.

Hackett would _not _be pleased.

Faith nodded slowly. 'I am... in need of specialist help, to outfit my ship. I could use somebody like you.'

Kenson turned her head towards Faith again, and raised an eyebrow. 'You just _slaughtered _my entire team. What makes you think I would _want _to work with you? Never mind that I am still an Alliance operative.'

Shepard was briefly taken aback, shocked at herself for how she had approached the situation. Had death become so normal to her, that she could just forget it had happened?

'I'm sorry I _had _to do that,' she muttered, before strengthening her voice. There would be tougher choices ahead. 'But I won't apologise for doing it. We both know the dangers of the Reapers, and I need the best. Is that you?'

Kenson slowed, Faith slowing with her so they did not fall, before setting off again. 'I'll speak to Admiral Hackett.'

Faith simply nodded, satisfied with even that response from Kenson. The woman was clearly in need of a few days to simply absorb everything and _rest_: the torture, her team lost, her project about to annihilate over quarter of a million lives. If she was to build a working relationship with the woman, Shepard could not press her too far now.

They reached the docking bay, still eerily empty, and again boarded their batarian shuttle.

Technically, the mission would be a success, but Faith felt only a hollow pit in her stomach_. _In a couple of hours, the entire system would be wiped out. But those causing it, were strolling slowly through an empty base, discussing what would amount to one woman's _career plans. _

As they boarded the shuttle, Faith tried to think of the batarians on the colony. Living normal lives, extinguished in seconds.

She found that she could not. She grew angry every time she imagined a batarian cooking a meal, or holding hands with another, or cooing over a child.

The image morphed. Slavers, standing around the naked, shivering form of Doctor Kenson. Brutal soldiers, dragging her sister out to the roof of Torfan's base, executing her. Hundreds of dead slaves, eyes bleeding, in the mines. That was easy to imagine. More comfortable.

She grit her teeth as she gently guided the shuttle away from the base, slowly overtaking the huge, rocketing asteroid towards the glimmer of the mass relay at the limits of her vision.

She had overheard one of the batarians on the base say he did not like having sex with his slaves. Did that mean he _made love _to his wife? She found it difficult to imagine the creatures having any sex, even if consensual, other than a rough, grunting, angry pounding, leaving the female quivering as he got up and left. Did the batarian who was about to die hold his wife as they fell asleep together, as she did Liara?

He had not denied owning slaves.

Having somebody he treated like _property, _able to order them to do anything from tend his garden to strip naked and bathe with him.

_Monster!_

Whether he _did _that or not, mattered little to her.

Slaving scum. They were _all _culpable, all responsible, through direct action or passive complicity. She could not feel anything but anger, despite _knowing _it was unfair to judge them all.

She could not imagine them as doing anything other than harsh, negative acts. Killing. Shouting. Fighting. Any number of worse things. The thought of them doing something _positive, _building, loving, laughing in any matter other than cruelly simply could not strike her as real.

The pair of women stayed in grim silence as the shuttle soared towards the mass relay, which Faith pulled up the remote activation screen for, noticing with a frown that it was quite different from any she had seen before. She still had to enter the ship's mass as usual, but the destination calculations looked like those of a secondary relay, able to reach any of the relays in a short distance... but the list of destinations was _far _greater than any secondary relay she had seen before. It had the range of most primary relays, which typically had only a single destination.

She realised with a sinking gut that the Reapers, if they took this system, could launch an attack _anywhere _in the galaxy.

'We call it the Alpha Relay,' Kenson spoke quietly, noticing Faith's hesitation at the readouts ahead of her. 'the Hegemony must have kept its immense utility a secret for all of these years.'

It was no wonder. The batarians could launch an attack on the _Citadel _from the Alpha Relay; it would be too much of a risk for the Council to leave unattended. She realised that if the Council had presence in the system, _they _might have found the Reaper artefact years ago.

Faith felt again the burning anger at the batarians, despite that little knowledge that _all _species would probably have done the same thing... but _this _time it was the batarians, and _they _had hidden something that could have given the galaxy years to prepare! Her mood fouled. 'I bet it's how they hit most of our systems for slave attacks.'

She punched in the co-ordinates for the Arcturus relay with an ugly grimace across her face, wishing she could just get back to Hagalaz and melt into Liara's arms. 'Or used to, anyway. It saves us some time though. I should be able to get my own shuttle back to my ship from Arcturus, if the timing is right.'

She felt strange, talking like this.

Like there should be something more dramatic to do, to say.

Instead, she was soaring a shuttle gracefully towards the mass relay, which would be followed shortly by a huge asteroid.

The relay would break apart and release enough energy to vaporise the entire system. The batarians would probably have a few minutes to appreciate the beautiful light, before growing concerned, then terrified, scrambling uselessly to their ships.

Knowing the end of their days was at hand.

_And leaving their slaves to burn as they try to escape._

As they finally hit the relay, Faith cast one final thought back, that grim knowledge of her life for so many years. There was a whisper, breaking through cold anger at the batarians, breaking through the harsh reality of what she had to do to delay the Reapers.

A whisper, that may have been guilt.

_Killer._

* * *

Councillor Tevos, representative of the Asari Republics on the Citadel Council, matron of over five centuries, was tired. Exhausted.

She looked around the small table, and saw the same could be said for her fellow politicians. Turians did not show it so obviously on their face; tough plates not giving any hints like darkened, wrinkled skin like her own might do. But she knew turians - her father was one - and Sparatus' crest, usually proudly sweeping behind his head, was drooping. His mandibles seemed to drag rather than flicker. His dark eyes were dull.

Valern's tiredness was perhaps the most obvious. Salarians spoke fast, moved fast, thought fast. But their heightened metabolism also meant they needed much more frequent breaks for rest and nourishment than other species. Whilst asari, turians and humans could work on roughly the same working schedule, salarians simply could not - stims could only be relied on so far before the body and brain demanded real rest. In truth, all of the councillors were grateful for the breaks Valern's biology demanded.

Anderson was the enigma. His physical exhaustion was etched into his features. Tevos had noticed almost straight away when his hair had began thinning: Ambassador Udina had undergone a similar metamorphosis when his duties became more demanding; the months after Shepard's promotion to Spectre had caused more trouble than any of them could have expected. What was left of Anderson's hair had changed colour to a steely grey, contrasting interestingly against his dark skin. He suffered a similar affliction to asari in that he bore shadows beneath his eyes when exhausted, however unlike her the human seemed uninterested in covering them with cosmetics.

But his eyes... they were more awake and alert than they had been for the two years previous. The man was not built for peacetime politics, and it seemed peace was something that might soon be a distant memory. Physical weariness aside, he was clearly more interested in the politicking than he had ever been before.

'Have you heard back from the Hierarchy?' Anderson prompted Sparatus, voice anticipatory.

'_Yes, _Anderson, and as always the answer is the same. They are nervous that humanity has built so many dreadnoughts in such a small space of time. Even though you _technically _have broken no laws because of your acceptance into the Council, that you are so eager to reach the limits of the Treaty of Farixen is of great concern.'

'So are the turians going to build more in return?'

Tevos could cry at the foolishness of this. Warlike species engaged in an _arms race, _tentatively hoping Shepard's threat of the Reapers was real... all the while building tension in the militaries of both species, and fear amongst the others who would be dragged into any war, a war that could be sparked by a single stupid act on either part.

'They say it would be futile: humanity would just catch up, and would rather I make it clear to _you _that any expansion beyond what the Treaty allows will not be tolerated.'

'But the Reapers-' Anderson began,

'Are not here!' Valern interrupted, agitated. 'You're arming up a galaxy in a time of peace, Anderson, and people are starting to get nervous! _My _government is agitated by this; we need to keep up our physical strength on the galactic stage, but each dreadnought built diverts resources away from our specialist operations!'

'Then we tell them!' replied Anderson, equally inflamed, 'We stop this ridiculous farce of half-accepting the Reapers, and tell people what's really going on!'

'We still do not _know _what is going on, Councillor Anderson,' Tevos ventured, forcing her voice peaceful. It was frequently her place to calm the passions of the shorter lived species. 'We still do not have _any _proof of an invasion like Shepard warns us of, and with the arms race you have so hastily propagated, passions are so inflamed that any warning like that could cause a war to erupt before the Reapers even arrive.'

Three alien faces turned to her, three different distinctive features curled into three different expressions of curiosity. 'You believe they _will _arrive, though?' Anderson was the first to speak, and Tevos replayed her last words.

Did she? Did she honestly believe that galactic civilisation was about to be wiped out?

No.

But... evidence was mounting. What the scientists were still pulling from the Collector Base, including the ruins of the horrific creature Shepard destroyed, combined with the attack nearly three years ago, had proven beyond a reasonable doubt that these machines - if they could even be called that, knowing their composition - were real. If they were real, where were they? What was their purpose? Their intent?

And to make things worse... she was concerned about her own people. The top matriarchs were acting uncharacteristically nervous whenever they asked for updates about these "Reapers". It was not something she could provide any proof for, beyond a deep feeling in her gut, but whenever she revealed a new piece of information that had been discovered, the matriarchs grew uneasy. As if they did not _want _to know.

Surely it was in her people's interest to know as much as possible? Perhaps it was because another issue had just reached the forefront: the culmination of Matriarch Benezia's posthumous trial, now over two years in process. Being one of her people's oldest and wisest meant a huge amount of debate and discussion had taken place, centuries of evidence and past conduct considered... and new evidence of the Reapers constantly made any allegations against her more serious.

Being culpable in the attacks on Eden Prime and Feros, breeding a rachni army, curing the genophage to clone an army of krogan, and assisting the one who led an attack on the Citadel, were all serious enough allegations, but to _include _the fact that she wanted to bring back these "Reapers", who may be intent on galactic genocide... _and _that she may have been a hapless victim to so called "indoctrination" - every new piece of evidence meant this politically important trial would simply be dragged on and on, beyond even her species typically long-term and considered justice system.

Yes, that had to be the reason for the matriarchs' unusual behaviour. If Benezia was decided guilty, the political and economic ramifications would be huge: she held, and her estate still did, massive, long term investments in many galactic projects. Her words and opinions would be soured, discrediting those who used to follow her and emboldening her opponents. The truth of the Reapers would be a deciding factor in the trial.

She looked up at the three expectant faces, aware she had been silent for close to a minute, and began, 'I-'

Without warning the door to their private meeting opened, and a very harried looking salarian messenger looked, wide eyed, around the group. 'C-councillors, I'm so sorry, but this is an emergency! I just got a call from C-Sec, who said they'd been contacted by the technicians at the central relay control system, who were trying to figure it out themselves but C-Sec said-'

'Good god man, take a breath!' an irate Anderson interrupted.

The salarian started, then took a second to visibly calm himself. 'A relay deep in batarian space just went offline. It's simply... _gone_.'

* * *

_**A/N: **Thank you to my extra eyes :-)_


	28. Chapter 28

Kelly smiled in anticipation as the shuttle landed with a soft jolt. Shepard had called and asked her to greet the new crew members, and Joker had been nice enough to fly her over to Arcturus station: he had no immediate duties with the Normandy docked on Illium.

She had never been to Arcturus before. The political centre of Alliance never held any appeal for her; she'd grown up a civilian, had been educated as a civilian, and had joined Cerberus as a civilian. She knew the Alliance did some good work, but it was not _her _work. Now that Shepard had ensured her crew would not be arrested on sight as Cerberus agents she _could _explore the station... but she was more interested in meeting the new crew members. She loved meeting new people - even though the circumstances were a little grim - and she found herself very much looking forward to the challenge of helping them integrate into the Normandy's crew.

The shuttle hatch opened, and after blinking away the bright light of the docking bay she looked across the four people standing before her. Slightly ahead of the others was a heavily scarred older man in a finely pressed uniform, decorated with a large assortment of medals. He held himself in the manner of one who was proud of having earned his place; confident, without any touch of arrogance.

Behind him, stood three very different looking people, all dressed in Alliance coloured operational uniforms. The message was clear: these men and women were Alliance, wherever they were serving. On the left was a calm looking man who Kelly placed in his early thirties, standing straight but not rigid: he looked like a man comfortable with his place in the world, piercing blue eyes an appealing contrast to his dark skin. In the centre was a young woman who Kelly imagined looked almost disappointed; perhaps she had been hoping to see the Hero of the Citadel disembarking the shuttle, not her yeoman. And on the right was a huge specimen of a young man: at least two heads taller than herself, with broad shoulders and thick arms, looking intently _through _her in military style.

She absorbed all of this in the five seconds it took her to disembark the shuttle, and approach the older man at the front. She was tempted to salute - the Normandy SR2 still operated a military environment - but knew she might risk offending the soldiers as she was not military herself, and was relieved when the man thrust out a hand which she took with a firm grip.

'Admiral Hackett, Fifth Fleet.'

'Kelly Chambers, yeoman to Spectre Shepard.' She decided to introduce herself as formally as possible, given the uptight nature of the Alliance, letting the admiral decide how to pitch the introductions.

'A pleasure, Ms. Chambers.' He turned, and gestured to each of the soldiers behind him. 'Lieutenant Steve Cortez, Communications Specialist Samantha Traynor and Lieutenant James Vega.' She nodded a greeting to each in turn, which they all returned, and as soon as the introductions had ended, she was pleased that the admiral relaxed his protocols somewhat, and addressed Kelly directly.

'You arrived at the right time, Ms. Chambers. We received a message from Shepard half an hour ago; she successfully completed her mission and is on her way to Arcturus right now. She should be landing any minute.'

Kelly felt a rush of relief at the fact: she always worried about Shepard when she was on the ground: the woman was a fierce fighter, but battle was fraught with risk.

'Is everything in order for the transfer, sir?' she asked.

'Yes. We will take care of all of the paperwork, as well as pay. I know I can't force it, but I'd request that they wear Alliance colours at all times.'

Kelly nodded thoughtfully. Another clear message: these were Alliance people, not Shepard's. It was going to take some time before the relationship on the Normandy became comfortable... doubly so if Shepard was away on Doctor T'Soni's ship. She made a mental note to have a quiet word with Shepard about the possibility of her staying on the Normandy for a few weeks, until the new recruits had acclimatised.

As if on cue, a siren sounded through the hangar bay, accompanied by a warning.

_Alert: transport in enemy colours docking, contains friendly personnel. Repeat: contains __**friendly **__personnel._

Hackett gave a grim smile, and turned to Kelly. 'I'm going to greet Shepard. Are you ok to help these people with their belongings?'

'Yes, sir!'

As soon as the admiral left, the huge man's military face broke into a smile, as he turned to look at the others, speaking with a slight accent. 'Hey Esteban, didn't think I'd see you here!'

The other man sighed heavily, though Kelly guessed it was theatrical judging by the smile working across his face. 'Thought I'd seen the last of you, Vega. Guess I'll be carrying your ass out of the fire again?'

'Hell yeah! Hey, can you give me a hand with these crates?' Kelly noticed several _huge _crates near the man, with several markings on the sides indicating that they contained weapons.

As the two continued to banter, the woman in the centre approached Kelly. 'You're... Shepard's yeoman? As in, personal assistant?'

Kelly nodded with a pleasant smile, and the woman continued, speaking with a very attractive British accent. 'How did you get a job like that?'

'Cerberus assigned me.' Kelly said carefully, gauging the woman's reaction. She was not going to hide what she did, who she associated with. Predictably, the woman's dark eyes widened.

'You're Cerberus?'

'Former. Now, I work for Shepard.'

'Work for Shepard... in her capacity as a Spectre?' ventured Traynor, hesitation about Cerberus instantly forgotten.

'I suppose,' Kelly replied. She still got paid; the same as Cerberus paid her, though she knew the money now came from Doctor T'Soni's accounts. Not that she ever spent anything on herself, other than occasional new clothes and books... most of her money went home, to her parents, to help her brother who was about to start a family with his wife and child. 'We don't work for any specific company or anything on the Normandy. Do you have any bags I can help with, Specialist Traynor?'

'O-oh, no! Just this!' She wiggled the bag on her shoulder. 'And you can call me Sam. If we're going to be working outside the Alliance, I guess we can leave behind titles?'

Kelly nodded, smile broadening. She liked Sam. 'I guess you can. Shepard's not particularly stringent about that kind of thing, as long as you do your job well. And you can call me Kelly.'

Sam smiled in return, then tilted her head to look past Kelly. 'Look, there she is! Can you - my god, what's happened to her!?'

Kelly turned, and saw Shepard striding alongside Hackett across the hangar bay towards them, accompanied by an older woman, all three looking distressed... Shepard especially so, the scars of her resurrection cutting deep into her face. Kelly's heart went out to Shepard, and she wished there was something she could do, but try as she might nobody other than her asari lover gave Shepard peace past a momentary distraction.

'She's had extensive reconstructive surgery,' Kelly muttered to Sam, not wanting to go into the full details just yet. 'The scars aren't usually that bad, unless she's angry about something.'

Before she could say anything more, the trio reached the shuttle. Shepard nodded at Kelly with a fleeting smile across her lips, and as always she had to resist the natural impulse to greet Shepard with a more personal greeting: Shepard was not one for casual hugs or touches. 'Kelly. I need to debrief with Admiral Hackett and Doctor Kenson, and we might be a while, but I'll be coming back with you.'

'You and your pilot can explore the non-restricted areas of the station if you wish,' added Hackett, face tense. Whatever happened, had affected all of them, and Kelly felt a burning desire to know. But she held her tongue as the admiral continued. 'Specialist Traynor, you can have one of the others show them around if they want to go anywhere, and I want you to accompany them.'

Sam saluted firmly. 'Yes sir!'

The three turned away, heading towards a small door at the nearest wall of the bay.

Kelly turned back to Sam, then followed the woman's determined gaze... all the way back to Shepard, whose body was clearly displayed in the clingy, asari-style armour she was wearing.

Suddenly Sam's fascination clicked into place, and Kelly could not hold in a giggle.

Sam's head snapped around, before she instantly relaxed, trying to play it cool. 'Is... something funny?'

_Better to spare her now... _

'Sorry Sam, it's not going to happen.'

Sam's eyes widened comically. 'W-what?'

'She _does _look good in that though, doesn't she?'

The woman's dark skin instantly turned a shade darker. 'I... I don't know what you're talking about!'

Kelly raised an eyebrow, judging that Sam could handle a light teasing. 'Uh-huh? I suppose you were just appreciating the quality of her armour, then?'

'I... oh, you're terrible!' Sam pouted, before lowering her voice conspiratorially. 'Ok... let's suppose I _was _doing what you - _hypothetically, _of course - think I was doing...why not?'

It would be obvious to Sam just _why not _the first time she saw Shepard and Doctor T'Soni together, but for now, Kelly could not resist but to have a little fun. She nodded to Sam's chest. 'If those were blue, you _might _have had a shot.'

* * *

'Yes. Yes. Understood. Yes, they're here. No, they assured me there's no evidence to implicate us. No, she's a _Spectre_, we can't detain her unless she lets us. No. I... Ok.'

Faith glanced over to Admiral Hackett, who was muttering angrily into a private call.

The three were currently occupying a small hospital room: Kenson's wounds needed real treatment, and she was still suffering from the lingering effects of exhaustion, dehydration and starvation. The Alliance operative was lying in bed, eyes closed, though Faith suspected she was not sleeping; there was still too much to do before she could rest. She was hooked into more than one IV bag, replenishing her body while her wounds healed.

Shepard had showered whilst the doctors had treated Kenson's wounds, and was now dressed in standard issue Alliance clothes. The sensation was unusual. She had spent so much of her life in the cheap, hardy, uncomfortable material that when she had first slipped it on, her body - which had for months been treated to well made clothes provided by Cerberus - sent a subconscious signal to her brain.

_Safe._

It was a ridiculous thought... but she had relied on the Alliance so completely for so many years, that she still could not fully banish the sensation. They guided her. Treated her mental wounds after Mindoir burned. Gave her a purpose, rules, regulations to conform to.

But they were not safe. They gave the false illusion of safety to those who needed it.

And she did not need it any more.

They had told Hackett of the destruction of the relay, and while he scrambled to confirm the information, Faith had rigged up a communicator to connect a secure, encrypted call to Liara.

They had only spoken for a brief minute before she cut the call to ensure the Alliance could not trace Liara's location, but it had been long enough to feel the deepest urge to finally just return to Hagalaz, to signal an end to the brutal nightmare of memory and hatred and death that had been, in reality, just a few hours of action.

Faith felt empty. Spent. Depleted.

The inferno of rage had burned out.

The resigned knowledge of slaughtering Kenson's team had been mentally packed away as just another mission necessity.

Those slaves she had executed... they would have died anyway. It wasn't any consolation.

Slouching in a low chair beside the bed of Doctor Kenson, Faith fixed her gaze on a bare patch of the far wall, her eyes unfocused and unseeing. She'd played a part in killing enough batarians to count for a small war... and she felt nothing at all.

_What's wrong with me?_

Some abstract part of her brain was telling her it was because the decision was so huge, so enormous, that she simply had not fully comprehended it yet. Another part was saying that it was probably a defence mechanism, to stop her breaking down at the weight of so many lives - so many _deaths _- on her soul. A quiet whisper, was saying it was because she felt no guilt, and never would.

Whatever the truth, she felt empty.

And underneath that almost dazed emptiness, she felt a sour lump of guilt and fear settle into her stomach. She had never _hidden _her feelings about batarians from Liara, but the feelings had never been provoked while they were together, either. What she had done... destroying the relay was a necessity. That she _knew. _She did not kill any batarians she did not need to during the mission.

But to _enjoy _it the way she had... she had _never _let her hatred get the better of her, the way it had when she had ripped apart the five manning Kenson's torture chamber with just her knife.

What she had done was terrible. Sickening. She was scared of what Liara's reaction would be. Fear? Hatred? Disgust? She deserved them all.

The thought of hiding what she had done briefly crossed her mind, but she dismissed the notion. Of everything she had done... she would not allow lying to the one person who knew the full extent of her be one of them. If Liara fled...

She did not think of it. Could not. And yet...

She had never thought of herself as a "Good Guy". She _knew _she had done some awful things. Made decisions most would call evil. But she had always justified it, to others and more importantly to _herself_, by knowing she had done so to save, to help, to ensure the majority of the galaxy could live in peace. She also knew there was a tipping point, somewhere, a point she toed dangerously close to more than once. And now, when she could not justify her motivations to _herself, _what chance did she have justifying it to others?

_Just where do I stand now?_

'Right. Hackett, out.' The admiral stated firmly, and Faith shook herself and straightened in her chair, doing her best to push away the darkness and focus.

Admiral Hackett, standing away from the bed and Faith's seat at the side of it, cut the call and instantly clutched a hand to his forehead.

There was an awkward silence for several seconds, before the man raised his head again. Faith glanced at Kenson, and saw she was awake, hazel gaze looking intently at Hackett.

'We've just received word,' the man began, 'that a relay deep in batarian space has gone offline. There is no communication with the area, and a drone sent to the system hasn't reported back.'

He sighed. 'I've seen your mission report, and I still can't believe it. What the hell _happened _out there? Shepard? Kenson?'

'Shepard added everything to her mission report, Steven,' Kenson spoke softly, and Faith was slightly surprised by the woman's familiar tone. Hackett had mentioned the two were old friends, and by the way his features had creased into concern when he heard the extent of her treatment at the hands of the batarians, she wondered if it was a respect shared through decades of working together, or something perhaps a little bit more.

'There should be nothing there to implicate us, the Alliance or humanity at all,' Shepard added, quietly.

'That's not what the batarians are saying.' Hackett retorted, him mouth set in a firm line. 'They've got no idea what's even happening but they're already pointing the finger at us. Saying they had an Alliance operative in custody on terrorism charges, then suddenly this happens?'

'The most evidence they'll have is a copy of the call they intercepted when they caught me,' said Kenson, already looking slightly stronger for the fluids being pumped into her. 'I can't remember the exact words I used, but I was talking in theory about "the destruction of the relay". Not our plans to do it, not how we did it. All they've got, in truth, is one woman talking about the relay being destroyed. That's not nearly enough to prove us aggressors, so it won't break our treaties with the Council which will provide us aid if we suffer an unprovoked attack. The batarians won't risk war unless they can attack us without getting the other species involved.' The operative turned her head, and caught Shepard's gaze, nodding.

'We can _use _this.' Faith said at Kenson's prompt. 'We _have _to. The longer we spend defending ourselves against charges the batarians have no proof for, the more time we waste when we could be preparing for the Reapers.'

'I'm not sure I like your implication, Shepard. What do you mean by "use" it?' Hackett asked, finally sitting on the opposite side of Kenson's bed to Faith.

Shepard leaned forward, her eyes glittering with sudden intensity. 'We blame the Reapers. It's a dangerous plan, since this _isn't _their mode of attack and could lead to us developing false tactics, but it's _something_.'

She ducked her head, clenching her teeth. 'Three hundred thousand lives were just extinguished with a single action. That's the kind of mortality rate we'll be looking at when they finally arrive, every hour of every day. We need to _use _this, somehow, to light a damned fire under people's asses.'

The room fell silent as the grim knowledge set in, before Hackett spoke up again. 'What are you planning, Shepard?'

'They were less than a day away from the system, Hackett. I need to do some calculations to work out how it'll be, but they'll be travelling at full FTL burn to the next nearest system.'

Another flash of information from the beacon hit her, prompted by her immediate need. It was almost a memory... but not. Like an image Liara might show her through a meld... but not. Schematics. Diagrams. Raw data she knew was important, without knowing why or what it was. Knowledge embedded in her brain with no natural source, in a language she both understood and found incomprehensible at once.

Faith blinked, her eyes downcast to the floor as the unusual revelation receded. 'They could be here within a year,' she murmured, not needing to raise her voice in the deathly-still room. Her eyes rose to meet with the admiral's. 'Perhaps sooner.'

Hackett's face settled into deep creases, his mind obviously racing - the old warrior clearly assessing Alliance war-readiness on a galactic scale. 'My God,' he muttered.

Faith continued, voice strengthening. They needed to _act. _'For some time now I've been working on a project. To let people know about the Reapers. Everything we know about them, what they've done, what they are capable of. What people need to do to help fight them. I've been holding it back since it seemed the Council were slowly getting their act together, but it's taking too long. I'm going to release it when I get back to my ship. I'll say that the Reapers are here. That they are responsible for the destruction of Bahak.'

She looked up and gave a grim smile. 'I've no idea what's going to happen when I release it, but I'm going to tell people to sign up to the Alliance, so you should tell the other admirals to get ready.'

'Shepard, you can't...' Hackett's features creased into anger, before he turned to Kenson. 'Amanda, do you _really _think this is happening?'

Kenson nodded sadly. 'The artefact we found... Steven, I can't even be sure I escaped the indoctrination. It had a few days longer with my team than me... but I could _feel _it. The countdown was almost anticipatory. It felt like when it reached zero, something _wonderful _would happen.'

'Do you still feel that way?' Faith asked, cautiously. She too had felt the artefact's effects on the very air of the base.

'No!' Kenson's face twisted angrily. 'I'm just relieved we _found _the damned thing in time to do something about it, otherwise we'd be scrambling to man the fleet this very second. But you felt something there too, didn't you?'

Shepard nodded silently.

Kenson turned back to Hackett. 'Whatever doubts we had, we need to throw them aside. The Reapers are coming. They're on their way to us, right now.'

* * *

Faith finally made her way towards the hangar, and the room containing her new crew, absolutely exhausted. She _should _have slept by now, she knew - she had been awake for nearly fifty hours and even Cerberus' upgrades were struggling to keep up with everything. She had taken a high grade stim just before they landed on Arcturus; she never took them unless she had to, but was not vehemently opposed as many other soldiers were. They were a tool like any other, with a place and time they were appropriate. And while Kenson had slept off the worst of her fatigue, she had debated and planned and argued with Hackett until he had finally agreed to let her go her own way. She had even turned down full reinstatement into the Alliance, with an immediate promotion to Captain. She was tempted - to strengthen her ties to the organisation that represented humanity's part in the fight - but could not be restrained by their boundaries. Could not allow herself to be forced to take orders from those who did not comprehend the full scale of the Reapers.

That deep, unconquerable terror had returned. The Reapers were _coming_. Now. And while some progress had been made in preparation, it was not nearly enough. She had no idea how to fight this war.

But she _would _fight it. With every ounce of strength and conviction she had, she would fight.

But first, she had more immediate duties. First: to decide what to do with her new crew members. Second: to see Liara.

To admit what she had done. The guilt had been building over the past few hours - but not for her actions themselves. She was feeling guilty, for feeling no guilt.

She _knew _what she did was horrible. She _knew _that tarring all batarians with the "slaver" tag was unfair. She knew, deep down, that killing 300,000 of them should cause _some _reaction.

But it did not. Faith _wanted _to feel something, to be able to tell herself that she was a decent person, worthy of Liara's love.

She wasn't. Not now. Perhaps she never was.

Even as the cold fingers of despair clawed at her, she arrived at the small room her new crew members were occupying - surprised to see Kelly waiting outside of the door. She had signalled ahead to her yeoman to get them ready to depart, and it seemed Kelly wanted to talk to her alone, first.

'Hey, Shepard,' the redhead said quietly, without her usual upbeat cheeriness. Faith had long gotten used to Kelly's almost annoyingly perceptive personality, and did not bother to question why she was not acting her usual positive self: she somehow knew Faith just was not in the mood.

Shepard nodded in response. 'How are our new crew members doing?'

'Quite well. Admiral Hackett chose them wisely. James and Steve already know each other, which should help them feel more comfortable, and I think this is Samantha's first real assignment so she'll be looking to impress. They all know about you, of course, and are looking forward to working with you.'

Shepard nodded, trusting Kelly's instincts about the new recruits. 'Anything else I should know?'

Kelly cocked her head thoughtfully, loose red hair swaying. 'Steve is still mourning a personal loss, but it won't affect his work. Something's bothering James, but he wouldn't give anything away so I think it's something you'll have to find out yourself. Also, Sam might be a bit... erm... _eager_... so we'll need to make sure she doesn't overwork herself early on.'

'Thanks Kelly. We'll be having one more join us as well: Doctor Kenson is an expert on mass effect technology, specifically that used by the Protheans and earlier races, and will be waiting for us on the shuttle.'

That had been much of what the discussion with Hackett was about. In the end, Kenson herself had declared her wish to work with Shepard: with the Reapers coming, her skillset was of more use to Faith on the front line than in the Alliance, which had dozens of people with overlapping knowledge and skills. Concerns about what happened in Bahak, could wait.

'She's a highly experienced scientist and operative so shouldn't have any trouble fitting in with a new crew, but she's been Alliance for decades so might have some old habits she needs to kick.'

'She sounds like a useful addition,' said Kelly.

'She will be.' Shepard caught Kelly's bright green gaze. 'I'd like you to talk to her at some point, if you get the chance. She was held by the batarians for several days.'

Kelly's face dropped, and she set a grim face as she nodded.

'She's tough,' Shepard continued, 'And I'll speak to her as well, but she probably won't want to talk...'

'I understand,' the psychologist said quietly. Shepard was pleased. She knew enough about Kelly to know the girl wouldn't go blundering in with personal questions nobody wanted to answer: the redhead had done a lot for her crew without most of them knowing it.

'Good. Thanks Kelly,' Shepard repeated, before finally offering a hint of an encouraging smile. 'Let's meet them, then.'

Kelly pushed the door open, and the three Alliance personnel, sitting around a table, at once jumped to attention, saluting. Shepard looked at each in turn. The older of the two men caught her gaze, unflinching. Faith was impressed - barely half an hour earlier, she had caught a glimpse of herself as she showered again after her extensive debates with Hackett. She looked like a living nightmare. But he held his gaze, and eventually she nodded at him, the man almost imperceptibly nodding in return.

The larger man beside him was glaring intently past her. He was almost oppressively big: she was not a particularly short woman herself but the man towered over her, her head just reaching his massive shoulders. After several seconds, his gaze flickered down before realising she was watching, and he instantly looked back up and over her. She thought she caught a trace of annoyance in his eye.

Finally, the young woman was practically trembling as she held a stiff salute. Kelly was right: she was definitely eager - she had probably read one too many news reports. Faith was not unused to such unusual reactions. Whether it was Torfan, her reputation as a brutal fighter or her general demeanor, people in the Alliance generally treated her with caution. It was frustrating at times, but at least led to no confusion about what was expected in a chain of command.

She didn't want these people terrified of her however, and would hopefully be able to build bonds like she had with the existing crew, but first she needed to be clear where they stood.

'At ease,' she finally said, and the soldiers shifted their position naturally. 'I imagine Admiral Hackett has told you that you'll be operating outside of official command structures. I'm not an Alliance officer, so you shouldn't salute me, and on my ship most Alliance protocol can be taken as recommendation rather than rule. As long as you do your job to the highest standard, you won't be chewed out for sloppy dress, speaking your mind without my permission, or any crap like that. _However, _I operate a military environment on my ship, so you will act with due respect to myself and your fellow crew, which _will _include non-humans, and when I give an order, you follow it.

'Is that clear?'

Two "Aye aye ma'am"s and one "Aye aye Commander" sounded.

'Good. I'd prefer you call me _Shepard _in lieu of any titles.' She briefly considered what else they needed to know. 'I'll explain the command structure when I can introduce you to the rest of my crew. Reports you send to Admiral Hackett will be queued and potentially edited to remove content - not without your being informed - to ensure operations will not be compromised.'

She glanced around the small group, pleased to see that at least the men had relaxed somewhat, already taking her orders into stride. Traynor was not holding a military stance anymore, but was still clearly nervous. Faith changed her tone, from _command _to something slightly more personal. 'There's one more thing. As a Spectre, I am not bound by Earth, Alliance or Council laws. You _will _see activities and operations on my ship that would be called illegal anywhere else. Everything you see and hear from this moment on is to be classified to the highest degree possible in Council space. Disclosure of them without Spectre-level consent or Council decree is considered a treasonous act against _all _of the Council races. If anybody has a problem with this, say so now and I will find a replacement.'

Vega and Cortez shook their heads, but Traynor awkwardly raised a hand, the action diminished by the fact that her hand was held down by her waist by a rigid arm. 'Yes, Traynor?'

'Erm... what kind of illegal activities are you talking about, ma-Shepard?'

_Fair enough..._

'Many of my ship's functions are managed by an AI.' Cortez raised an eyebrow at that, and Traynor's eyes widened in what looked like excitement as Faith continued. She needed to know _now _that they were not concerned by this, so she did not have to replace them _later_.'I have a large assortment of weapons that are forbidden in Council space, and I'm sure you know I've been associated with the terrorist organisation Cerberus.'

Liara's face filled her mind, and Faith finally felt a whisper of good humour as she considered the Shadow Broker's status amongst most governments.

'Also, I harbour wanted criminals.'

* * *

'Hey Liara, check this out.'

Garrus is standing by the security terminal, frantically tapping, and his stressed tone provides a welcome distraction from the memories of the brief call Faith made, now nearly twenty hours ago. I barely slept, worrying about her... she looked so _upset, _so tired, on the all-too-brief vid call, saying she would be back soon - but when?

The news from Bahak is nothing short of terrifying. The relay, _gone, _and absolute silence from within? One of my experts theorised that the destruction of a relay would vaporise the system it inhabited... did Faith do that? Why could she not have stayed on the call for longer?

I dislike feeling helpless, not knowing everything, but for now there is nothing more I can do than trust her. I know she would not leave me waiting unless she had no other choice... so for now, whatever Garrus is doing will have to serve as a distraction.

I cross to where he is standing, and peer around him. 'What is it, Garrus?'

'Something weird. About an hour ago the computer picked up an energy glitch outside, but it wasn't strong enough that it registered as anything other than an anomaly from the storm.'

'But you think otherwise?' Could it be Faith? Why did she not signal?

'Maybe. There's nothing on the vid feeds from any of the hangar bays, and the ship's scanners are dark, but I don't like it. Look, this was shortly after the energy surge.'

He pulls up a video, playing it through, when suddenly the screen glitches for a single frame, before continuing, the timer in the corner indicating nothing happened. 'I don't know if it's just the old detective in me coming out, but I don't like it.'

I can understand his hesitation: the ship is huge and empty, and though it is absolutely irrational, childish fears continue to plague me whenever I wander the corridors alone.

I nod. 'We should investigate. I would rather be sure there is nothing wrong.'

'My thoughts exactly,' he replies, pulling out a pair of pistols from his desk, and offers one to me. I practice every other day, but the feel of a weapon in my hand that I know might be used for action in the next few minutes, has my heart pounding heavily into my chest. It is so easy to forget this feeling, having been away from action for so long... it is intoxicating, in its own way, and terrifying.

Without any further words, Garrus takes the lead, jogging slowly down to the hangar bay. We take up positions either side of the door, and with shortened breaths, I nod in his direction. He returns the gesture, and I open the door, both of us swinging in, pistols ready.

Garrus was right.

There is a shuttle squatting in the centre of the bay , not one of mine, and two huge crates are visible in the open hatch at the side. We separate, the old tactics Faith taught me coming back as if we did this every day, scouting the corners of the room as we slowly make our way towards the shuttle. The brightly lit room holds no secrets: I see nobody hiding, but instinctively feel my body begin to hum with biotics anyway, in anticipation of whatever we might find.

What could they want here? Who knows the location of this ship? The single shuttle is unmarked, with room only for two or three passengers... surely a hostile boarding party would bring more?

On edge, we finally reach the shuttle, and after confirming it is empty Garrus approaches me, whispering. 'We need to activate the security drones, I'll-'

He stops suddenly, after poking his clothed wrist with his other hand. 'What the... where's my omni... **Spirits**!'

'What? I just wanted to see if I could do it!' Kasumi's mischievous voice rings throughout the bay, even as she suddenly materialises right next to Garrus, causing him to hop away in fright, letting loose a string of profanity in a Palaven dialect my translator fails to catch.

The thief, chuckling with delight, slinks past the hulking turian, casually tossing his omni-tool over her shoulder at him. He deftly catches it, glaring at Kasumi with a mixture of amusement and annoyance.

As I struggle to calm my biotics, the girl approaches me, voice ringing with humour. 'Sorry Doctor, I need to keep my skills sharp, you know? I figured if I can break into the Shadow Broker's base unnoticed, I can break into _anywhere._'

'We _did _notice you,' Garrus grumbles unhappily, reattaching his omni-tool. 'That's why we're down here. And _why _do you always do that to me?'

'Because it's fun! And I guess you're right, I'll try better next time. Oh, and I borrowed five hundred credits from your account on that thing.' She adds, before giggling as Garrus' mandibles flare and a deep growl sounds from his throat. 'I'm kidding! Relax, big guy.'

'What are you doing here, Kasumi?' I ask, frowning. 'I thought you would be robbing Kassa-'

'Already done.'

'W... already?' She is _fast! _Kassa's research lab has top of the line security, in a remote location... I had thought the project would take anything up to a week!

'Yup!' she replies happily, hopping into the shuttle, crawling behind the crates and tapping the interface on the top of the larger one. 'I even got you a present!'

The lid slides off the case, and my breath catches. A _beautiful _suit of armour is contained within, slightly concave across the chest, suggesting is is designed for the female form. It is heavy across the torso, shoulders and arms, with thick plates across the thighs and shins but enough gaps to allow free movement... it is as if the suit was _designed _for Faith. Heavy plating in the areas that take fire, but much lighter where the body needs to bend for swift movement... perfect for her aggressive, fluid combat style.

The colour scheme simply reinforces my opinion: it is tinted dark grey, nearly black, with a thick red stripe down the right arm.

'Goddess...' I run a hand over the hard chest plate, feeling something of a static spark jumping from my skin to the armour. 'Is this...'

'All made from that material you asked me to lift? Yes it is! The rest is in the other crate. Did you know that most human armour manufacturers make their prototypes to fit humanity's first Spectre, to show off to investors? I didn't, until now. When I saw it...' Her hooded face tilts up, and I see her lips twist into a grin. 'I couldn't resist. You can say it's from you if you want, Liara. I'm sure it'll score you a bucket of good girlfriend points, if you do that kind of thing, or whatever.'

'How...' This is amazing! Such a beautiful piece! 'How did you get it out? This crate must be incredibly heavy! And large! You could not sneak it out through the door, surely...' I can hear myself babbling, but just _thinking _of Faith seeing it... it will be a wonderful gift her her when she returns.

'Hey, hey, whoa! Professional thief trade secrets!' I quickly look up, seeing her holding up both hands as if to ward me off, though a bright smile betrays her pleasure at my reaction.

'O-of course... my apologies Kasumi, this is beautiful, I simply...' Faith will _love _this!

The others talking barely registers as I absorb the gift. 'Hey Gare, do you think she likes it?'

'You know Kasumi, I think she does.'

_It is beautiful..._

_Come home to me, Faith._

* * *

Faith knew she should sleep. She was exhausted.

The new crew had been shown around the Normandy on Illium, introduced to the people there, and given assignments to help with the upgrades... then she had left. Kelly advised she return to the Normandy asap to help the new crew acclimatise, and she planned to do so, but first she needed to see Liara.

To...

_To what?_

She had never been one to shy away from difficult situations. She would rather meet them head on: be it a fortified enemy position or problem with a crew member.

Shepard knew she needed to talk to Liara. The thoughts of what she had done were roaring through her mind, accompanied by worries of how Liara would react. All of those memories, the pain and anger they contained, had been dragged to the forefront by the all too familiar setting batarian facility, and she had reacted... _poorly._ Her brutal method of neutralising the batarians. The still noticeably absent guilt, or reaction of _any _kind, about destroying the relay. Liara deserved to know.

Faith needed to sleep. But she couldn't. Every time she closed her eyes, she was on Mindoir, seeing the ruined corpses of her parents. On Torfan, seeing the hundreds of dead slaves, seeing her soldiers gaze at her with a mixture of awe and fear. On Aratoht, dragging her knife across a batarian's throat, so deep she could hear it grind against the bone.

Faith leaned back as the shuttle autopiloted through the Sowilo system towards Hagalaz, emitting her location to Liara's ship, and a request to dock. She would be there in half an hour.

She could not help it. She hadn't slept for over two days... she allowed her eyes to slip closed again, mercifully embracing the darkness.

She would have to manually guide the shuttle into the planet's atmosphere... but for now...

For fifteen minutes, Faith Shepard dreamt of death.

* * *

_**A/N: **Thank you Jay8008 for beta reading_


	29. Chapter 29

Her scars look angry, worse than I have ever seen.

I feel a blend of relief and worry staining the single-track thought, as the shuttle door slides open.

The heavy shadows around her eyes speak of absolute exhaustion, and the horrific red scars are tearing across her skin in a map of anger and pain, lighting up her usually deep brown eyes into something both enticing and terrifying.

Neither of us speaks for a moment, not quite knowing what to say. Does she know that I know about the relay? I had a high level mole in the Alliance secure a copy of the mission report for me. Does she know that my mind is racing with unanswered questions and concern and apprehension?

There is something in her face, beyond the exhaustion. The usually harsh expression I know stays with her long after stress and battle is completely absent: her brow is furrowed instead into worry and her lips have the slightest curl downwards.

She glances down, breaking the eye contact that seemed to absorb time itself, though it was likely just several seconds, then hops down from the shuttle towards me.

'Liara.' My name sounds as it always does on her lips: as if she is reverently speaking the name of the Goddess herself. I take her hand, feeling it damp and clammy in my grasp, and draw her into an embrace, hearing her sigh softly.

Even after she returned from the Omega 4 relay, she was not like this. Then she was tense, tormented and upset, lashing out in a way I know still burns her with shame, but nothing like this. Her scars are throbbing angrily, but her body language is hesitant, almost _scared, _so I tighten my embrace, conflicted thoughts of worry and a vivid need to _protect _her from a non-existent threat dancing through my mind.

'I need to show you something, to... to... show you what I did, what you're... if we're going to...'

She pulls back slightly, to look into my eyes.

_Goddess..._

Something is clearly haunting her but it will have to wait: she is absolutely _exhausted, _barely stringing together coherent sentences, and everything from her dull eyes to her usually proud bearing being ever so slightly slumped is screaming her need to simply shut down for several hours. She said _show, _does she mean a meld? She could not handle it in her current state.

'Not now, Faith,' I whisper, taking her hand again and turning, meaning to head towards the bed we share on this ship I still struggle to think of as my own. 'You need to sleep.'

I want to know what she means, of course, but for now, having her back safely is enough. I doubt _I _will be able to sleep, but her well-being is more important than my own curiosity at this moment.

Her hand gently tugs me back around. 'This is _important, _Liara.' Her voice carries more strength than before, and her face creases into frustration.

'Unless we will be in immediate danger in the next several hours, it can wait,' I say, seeing a flicker of emotion pass across her face. She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath, her entire body shifting with the motion. When she looks at me again the exhaustion is _gone. _

The change is startling, like seeing her put on her battle armour... perhaps in a way she just did. 'Please, Liara, this... I can't just go to bed with you, with this on my mind.'

'Why not?' I ask, fear starting to creep through me. Whatever she wants to show me, to tell me must be serious... what is she so scared of? I read the report - her actions were _necessary_! Could she have... fabricated it?

'Because I won't be able to sleep. It'll...' She shakes her head angrily, short hair bouncing with the movement, 'After what I did, it'll feel like a lie.'

'It will never be a lie, Faith,' I say, stepping in close to her again. 'You know that whatever you have done, I am with you. _Always._'

'Do you know what happened?' she asks in return.

I nod. 'I have heard about the relay, and procured a copy of your mission report. The Reapers would be _here, now, _if you did not destroy that relay. I _know _what you did, you did for a good reason.'

She winces away, next words barely audible, terrifying, wavering even as she whispers. 'What if I didn't?'

'W- what do you mean?' My heart starts pounding faster.

_What happened?_

'What if I blew up that relay and _killed _all those batarians, because I could see nothing but monsters?'

My blood runs cold. I have glimpsed the depths of her feelings about batarians; she struggles to see them as all the other races of the galaxy: with sides of both beauty and darkness. But of anybody in the galaxy she perhaps has the most reason to feel so: batarian slavers destroyed her home, killed her parents. They murdered her abused little sister before her eyes. She spent close to ten years in the Alliance combating slavery and piracy, seeing the very worst of the species, never allowing herself to, or _wanting _to, see the other side.

But to... to commit an act that will no doubt be labelled genocide for those feelings? Against innocents, for the most part? I do not believe it. I _cannot. _

That is not the person I fell in love with.

'Did you?' I ask, hearing my voice break in fear of her answer. My hand slips away from hers. The void it leaves is greater than the simple action should dictate.

'I don't know,' she looks down to her empty hand, and I feel a pang of regret... she needs me now. But if she _did _do that? Destroy an entire system full of people for her own feelings?

'That's what I need to show you. I... _dammit_... The Reapers were nearly _there, _Liara. They would have been there within a day.'

_A day..._

I read that in the report as well, but to actually hear it from her lips, to imagine it... it seems so _impossible. _We are not _nearly _ready, and now we have just months left to prepare! But we _do _have time now, because of her actions. She knows this!

'Then you had no choice! I know the decision must have been difficult-'

'That's just the _point!_' her explosive words startle me into a step backwards, but she looks instantly terrified, eyes wide, all traces of tiredness banished, taking a step back as well, as if away from herself. 'God, I'm sorry Liara, I didn't mean to... _shit!_'

I can almost sense her anguish as she closes her eyes, and sits on the step of the shuttle. 'I'm so sorry. I'm trying to do this, and all I can do is scare you.'

I sit beside her, speaking quietly. 'What do you mean?'

'I've dealt with this kind of thing alone for years, Liara, and the last time I tried to...' Her ducked head shuts me out, her hoarse voice grates my senses. 'The last time you were there after a tough mission I practically _forced _myself on you. You're... you're here, now, and I don't want to hurt you again.'

We both stay silent, remembering that night - she startled me, but did not hurt me as she imagines she did. The visceral passion _was _enjoyable, and when I grew uncomfortable she stopped the instant I asked her to. Perhaps she should not have done it, but it was a mistake forgiven. Eventually, I take a breath. 'I have told you before that I am here for you, _however _you need. I'm not leaving just because you are upset, and you did _not _hurt me.'

She looks up at me, eyes wide, but I continue before she can say anything. 'But that is not what I was asking about. What did you mean when you said "that's the point"? The point of what? That you found the decision difficult?'

She shakes her head, taking a deep breath, gazing intently into my eyes. 'The point is that I _didn't. _I pushed that button without a second thought, Liara.'

The emptiness in her voice crashes my thoughts to a halt.

Before I can even decide what to make of the revelation, she is talking again, quietly, seemingly without stopping for breath. 'I... I feel _nothing _about it, Liara. Like it never even happened. Shouldn't killing that many do... _something_... to me? What the hell is wrong with me?'

I frown. 'You are worrying about it now, Faith.'

She shakes her head again, more angrily this time. 'I'm _worried _that I'm not worrying! That I'm just sitting here, waiting for some big revelation or stroke of guilt to hit me, when I don't think it's ever going to!'

A rush of frustration drowns out the measured response I know I should make. 'And what do you think you should be doing? Breaking down on the floor? Feeling an insurmountable guilt? By the Goddess, you have just been involved in something most people would struggle to even _comprehend, _you are absolutely exhausted and refuse to sleep!' The frustration instantly burns out, leaving a deep care and concern, and I take her hand again. 'Please, Faith, come to bed with me. We can talk about this when you are rested.'

She stands suddenly, clutching a hand to her head, quickly pacing ahead of me. After several uncomfortable seconds, she stops, and looks down at me. 'I need to show you something.' Her eyes blink closed for a long moment, and when they open again they are full of a sadness that breaks my heart. 'I... need you to see it. _Please._'

Desperation rings through her voice, and I eventually nod resignedly. 'Very well. But not here, and if I sense you are too tired, we _will _wait until you have slept.'

There is a brief pause before she responds quietly. 'Ok. Do you want to go to our room?' she holds out a hand, which I take, and she helps me stand as well. I do not let go.

'Yes.' We can at least be comfortable there... for whatever it is she wants... _needs_... to show me. An uncomfortable nervousness fills me as we make our way hand in hand through the large, mostly deserted ship; Garrus and Kasumi both agreed to let me greet Faith alone.

I knew almost as soon as I realised my feelings, all those years ago, that Faith would be a difficult woman to love. She kept herself locked away for so long, repressed so many feelings of anger and hurt and pain that she now struggles with her emotions, both the pleasant and unpleasant. But there is such strength there as well, forged by hardship, sealed by the love and friendship she has known since the first Normandy, and underneath that there is a _tenderness_, a deep, shy, clean flame that her life has tried again and again to extinguish, but never truly succeeded, and every time I catch a glimpse of it, I know it is all worth it... that perhaps one day there will be a time we can live in peace, where I can lay down the corrupting mantle of the Shadow Broker, where she can finally live a life without death haunting her every step.

But what worries her now, is worrying _me. _She often feels a deep shame in regards to her actions, but she has never been so _terrified_ of my reaction.

Has she done something she fears I will disapprove? I _do _disapprove of some of her actions, her decisions, but have always been honest, and always respected her nevertheless, because her motivations have never been corrupt or selfish... something I cannot say about myself. I committed more than one shameful act, many no doubt leading to death, for my own business' _profit, _and know countless atrocities happen every day to fill the bank accounts of the Shadow Broker. It is horrifying at times. There are more wrongs than I could ever hope to right, though I do try to assuage the worst of them... despite my actions sometimes rippling out and causing even _more _suffering for people. The information business is not a pleasant trade, and more often than I would like I find myself using the human phrase "lesser of evils" to lighten the guilt, relying on Faith's ever present and accepting trust that my actions are the best I can do.

We finally reach our bedroom; a dull, unfurnished room like all the others on this ship and Faith sits on the bed, our hands naturally drifting apart. I miss the contact immediately, and sit close beside her on the simply decorated furniture, clad just in white sheets.

'Liara...' she says quietly, not looking at me. Her voice is clear, almost emotionless... I know that is a defence mechanism, and the words are truly hard for her to get out, judging by her flickering eyes and tense features. 'What I'm going to show you... it's terrible. Violent... Painful. But you need to... _deserve _to know, if you want... _us_.'

'I am no stranger to violence, Faith.' What could she mean? For years now my life has been battle and deadly subterfuge and death... she knows this!

'Not like this. I'm just warning you because...' she looks into my eyes, her hands clasped gently on her lap, voice still calm but eyes full of emotion. 'Because I've never hidden anything from you. You know that I'm a bit... you know that I'm like, under this shell I show the world, but you still see me, and accept me.'

She takes a deep breath, not breaking eye contact, and I let her continue. 'The one thing I'll never, ever do to you is lie to you, or hide anything from you. But what happened on Aratoht was...' her gaze flickers down, before catching mine again, eyes full of a mixture of determination, clearly to speak what has been haunting her, and a fear. What is she going to show me?

'It was awful, Liara. You'll...' I can almost hear the effort it takes to force out the next terrifying words, 'not think the same of me afterwards. Are you ready?'

I place a hand over hers, trying to keep my nerves from my voice. 'Always. Are you?'

She nods silently, and closes her eyes.

The physical contact helps me join the meld; gently manipulating my nervous system until I sink into the burning fire that is Faith Shepard. There is, as always, the slight natural resistance I gently push past, to be immediately rocked by the seething turmoil of thoughts and emotions and memories of another mixing with my own. It takes Faith a moment to collect herself - having been the "passive" partner in multiple melds during my education I know the sensation can be disorienting - before she, _so _tenderly, in a mental question full of a fear she can no longer hide, asks once more.

_Are you ready? _There are words, but I do not understand them: she thinks in her own language but with our souls embracing the words themselves are but a shell for the meaning beneath them.

I reply with a rush of care and acceptance... but do not hide my own fear, my anxiety about what I am about to see. Faith will not hide anything from me, and neither will I from her.

With a startling intensity, I am dragged into a vision of hell.

_I can feel __**everything**__._

_The torture room is __**shocking**__... of course I have heard of the practices of the batarians but to actually experience it like this... Horrific! Disgusting! _

_The image clarifies. Broken people of all races in cells lining the room. The taste of despair in the air: __Body waste. Sweat. Diseased flesh. The lingering remains of forced sex. Something Faith has tasted far too many times before, hunting these monsters._

_She had kept herself in check up to now... but I feel the mantle slipping as she stalks towards a batarian stumbling away from her. The memory is so intense, the meld so deep, that her steps become my own, her breath mine, her __**rage **__mine._

_Faith's anger burns through me as I - __**she **__- stalks towards the batarian. Flashing images, memories held within the memory, of my - __**her **__- sister, executed before my - __**her **__- eyes. Hundreds and hundreds of corpses, their ruined eyes bleeding, in cells just like these one. My - __**her **__- simple, happy life, ripped away by the monsters!_

_I feel a flush of anticipation as the final gap is closed, a shortening of breath that sends a wonderful rush, a building wrath that now, as I have done a hundred times before, there can be __**retribution **__for what happened to my family, and finally I let out a satisfied groan as my knife drags across the batarian's throat, so deep I can hear it grind against the bone, his warm blood soaking my gloved hand, a wonderful burn flushing through my body._

I break the meld, gasping. _Goddess... _the depth of those feelings... I had no idea! I knew she harboured enmity, but never imagined it anything like _that_... it is horrible! To have lived with that all of her life, all of that pain and rage... I wish there was more I could do, to comfort, to take away that pain... why was she so scared? That I would judge her for her fury, when I cannot in honesty say I would not feel the same way? We both know that the rush of battle is intoxicating, and given her past, the act of enjoying killing a slaver is, whilst distasteful, certainly not one she should be ashamed of - I know her well enough to _understand. _

I force myself to open my eyes, seeing her look at me, eyes concerned.

'Are you ok?' she asks quietly. In response I raise a hand to draw lightly across her jaw, a contact she shies away from slightly.

She continues. 'Are you ready to see the rest?'

With a gentle nod I softly reach out mentally again, and find her mind quickly.

_There is no specific memory this time. _

_Instead... a maelstrom._

_Seeing the population count of Aratoht on a small feed._

_The grim knowledge that two thirds of them are slaves._

_The others..._

_Blood, warm over my hands. _

_Monsters._

_Monsters, guilty by participation or association or tacit complicity._

_The button I know will end __**all **__of their lives. There is no rush of excitement this time. Just a cold, hard, acceptance._

_There is no hesitation. No attempt to warn the batarians._

_The alert would be futile, despite it giving nearly a full days' warning. It would risk revealing her... the Alliance's... __**humanity's**__... part in the action. The batarians would not listen, whatever was said._

_The journey from Bahak. Nothing. No guilt, no consideration for the lives lost._

_A place I know is Arcturus station, explaining the actions to Admiral Hackett. Nothing. No guilt, no consideration for the lives extinguished._

_The shuttle ride to Hagalaz... exhaustion. Concern beginning to settle in, about how little reaction there is. No guilt, no consideration for the lives taken._

_The slaves have been put out of their misery. A sad, horrible fate, but one it is possible to come to terms with. The others..._

_Nothing._

I end the meld more slowly this time, breathing deeply. The image was less visceral, but _much _more troubling.

Those lives she just ended... they were not all slavers. Most of the free batarians on Aratoht were simple people living simple lives... only a few were even slave owners themselves.

Does she really see them that way?

She _has _seen the worst of the species, but they are more than that! Batarians have a poor reputation throughout the galaxy, but this is largely due to their own, highly oppressive government forbidding them to leave their own planets: most batarians are people just like any other, enjoying laughter and love... I even learned during my education that the majority of personal slave owners treat their slaves with respect. They are allowed to run shops, marry, live lives free of cruelty, perhaps even earn their freedom: most _batarian _slaves are subject to that status as part of a consensual agreement that allows them to work off debts... but there are also the abused slaves, the aliens, forced into it against their will, their defeated expressions and decrepit conditions. The image now forever burned into my mind. Was I naive, thinking that the majority of slaves were those in contracts?

It is by no means a system I would want any part of, but it is deeply embedded in their culture and the entire species is not deserving of death for that. Even the asari operate something similar, poorer families working for richer ones such as my own in return for financial support - though we certainly do not count them as slaves; they are free to leave their contract at any time and there are _never _demands such as sex included - I had once thought it not so different, but now, the knowledge of the prisons and torture and worse... the divide is glaring to me.

But even _that _cannot justify the deaths of so many, most of whom had no part in the slaving operations.

I look at Faith, frowning. The pain and outrage I could understand, but not this. Does she think all of those batarians were so deserving of their fate?

The meld was confusing: there was no rush of emotions like there was when she slit the throat of the one in the torture room, but no regret either.

Just... nothing. Is that a natural reaction? I know _nobody _who has had to make such a spontaneous decision: mother often made choices, actions and speeches knowing the effects would change the lives of thousands, but never one that would end so many lives, and she always took such time and care over the process, teaching me to do the same, a philosophy I carry in my work every day... to have to decide something so important and final, so suddenly-

But in a way, Faith did not have a choice at all.

The Reapers were _there. _All of our half-complete preparations would have been for nothing.

Faith... Faith would be dead.

The thought catches my breath in an almost imperceptible sob. I cannot lose her. Return to a cold, empty bed, knowing she will never be there to hold me again. Live a life bare of the happiness she brings with anything from the occasional silly gifts she finds me, or the comfort of a quiet embrace. I could not do this; prepare a galaxy that prefers ignorance to fear, without her. I cannot go back to that life I lived on Illium, devoid of anything other than cold calculus; only in hindsight can I see how poisonous operating in such a _lonely _environment was.

She did what _had _to be done. Her feelings about batarians had no part in activating the Alliance's Project. Or did they? Is that why she is so concerned about my reaction?

Could... could I love somebody who is capable of justifying death on such a scale, with a false impression that they are all monsters?

Of denying them even a _chance, _for a tactical advantage?

Faith stands, drawing me from my reverie.

'I... I'll let you...think...' she ends uncertainly, then turns away towards the door.

I stand quickly, taking her arm. I do not want her to leave... even if she needs to sleep, I do not want her to do so alone. But first, I _need _to know. 'Do... you truly see them that way?'

She shakes her head, eyes flashing. 'What do you want me to say, Liara? _Yes_. I do. The last time I was on Omega, one tried to sell me a damned _slave. _I nearly tore his throat out right there. That drunken bastard I showed you, was on his way to _piss _on Doctor Kenson. Either for the pleasure of it, or to help _break _her.'

'And you think batarians are all like that?' I release her arm as she turns fully towards me, an ugly scowl marring her scarred face, a face I know can be beautiful but now showing nothing but a visibly pulsing rage.

'Like _them_? No. But their society _needs _people like them to go out and destroy thousands of lives just so they can keep to their disgusting traditions.' She shakes her head again. 'God, I...'

She catches my eye, angry passion burning beneath the surface. 'Look, I _know _they're not all slavers. But it's... unreal. I try to think of them doing _normal _things, holding hands, going shopping, whatever... and I _can't. _I tried to imagine, if I warned them, and if they actually _paid attention_, them doing anything other than just leaving their slaves to burn, and I _couldn't. _I'm sorry if that upsets you, but I can't change that.'

She walks back into the room, past me, and strips off her bulky, Alliance marked shirt - reminiscent of that worn by the crew of the _Normandy SR1 - _leaving her arms and shoulders mostly bare in an unmarked black tank top, golden skin criss-crossed with angry red.

She _tries... _

That one word means everything to me.

Perhaps... she does not _want _to feel this way. But she does.

She tries, _struggles _against her history of pain and violence. I almost let out a sigh of relief at the fact, but I do not want her to accept her prejudices as an immovable part of her.

She was correct in her warning to me earlier.

They _lessen _her. Almost everything else about her isstrong, laudable, _great _in the truest sense of the word: the strength and determination, the utter selflessness in that she is willing to sacrifice some or all of herself, and never ask for anything in return.

She cannot continue this way. I can see it now, an almost imperceptible self-loathing at her own thoughts and feelings - that she was so ashamed to show me, but at once determined to do so, speaks louder than the words she gave to the air. That she is _worried _that she feels nothing but anger and emptiness towards those poor souls destroyed by the relay, is sign of her true feelings. That she _tries._

My next words are a whisper, as I step towards her. I have no idea how to help her, but I must _try. _'"Can't" change that, or "won't"'

She frowns. 'What?'

'Are you so frightened of seeing them as the _people _they are?'

'_Frightened?'_ She takes a step closer to me, but there is no aggression in the movement, and I do not move myself. 'I was _frightened _when they burned my home to the ground, killed my parents and kidnapped my sisters. I was a scared little girl who could barely make it through the day after that. But I'm not any more. I can do something about it now, and stop them from ruining other peoples' lives.'

'By killing them?' I ask quietly. I truly hope I am not pushing too hard, I _truly _hope this is the right thing to do...

'Yes!' The pure ferocity of her response startles me, and she turns away, her fists clenched tightly. 'You saw what they were doing to those people on Aratoht. You've seen what my life was like before the attack. I was _happy, _Liara, and they _burned _it all, for the demands of their _sick _society_. _Just because they're not involved in the raids and torture, doesn't mean they don't benefit from it without a second thought.'

'It is part of their culture, and you slaughtering every batarian you see will never change that!' Her argument is flawed: feelings like this are rarely held in logical consideration, but I see a terrible, _personal_, fragile flaw, and with a deep breath I say the words I hope will not break her. 'Yes, slavery is disgusting, but those innocent batarians are no more to blame for it than _you _are for the horrors Jack and the other children went through at Cerberus' hands, for your biotics. Than _I _am responsible for whatever other horrors Cerberus inflicted, to develop the technology used to rebuild you, because I gave them your body.'

She stops moving, and I see her face whiten from the side, so I move to get a better view of her. Her eyes are wide, and shoulders trembling.

Goddess, I hope I was right to say that!

'That's not fair.' She speaks quietly, all hints of fury evaporated from her voice.

I reach out and gently touch her shoulder, before pulling my arm back. I need to let _her _decide what to do, what she needs, from here. 'No, it is not. And neither are you being fair to those who lost their lives when the relay was destroyed.'

I look to the cold, impersonal floor for a brief moment, before looking back into Faith's eyes, swimming with a very organic uncertainty.

'Why are you doing this to me, Liara?' she whispers, eyes imploring.

'Because I hate seeing you in pain, Faith, and this anger you harbour causes you more pain than any bullet could.' I take a step closer, grateful that she does not move away. 'You... you have lost so much, more than _anybody _deserves to lose. But you cannot change it. You are here, now, with a person who _loves _you, and you _can _let go of your rage.'

Faith's gaze drops to the floor. 'What if I can't? They... they took it _all, _Liara! I feel like if I stop hating them, I'll be b-betraying my family, forgetting why I started doing all of this in the f-first place!' The pain in her words... her faltering voice... _Goddess, let this end soon..._

'Do you truly believe that?' Faith has overcome _everything _her life has thrown at her... but to cast off her own fears...? She has done it before! She was terrified of opening herself to me, rejecting me at first through a mixture of fear and a desire not to drag me further into what she considers her tainted life, but she eventually grew past that... can she overcome this? 'Do you think they would want you harbouring their pain forever?'

'It's... it's... what...' I see the taut muscles across her shoulders and arms flex, her fists clench with tiny biotic wisps, and I predict her next words, pouring all of my heart into my response.

'It made you strong when you needed strength, but you do not need it any more! You have your _own _life now, friends, _me, _your own reasons to fight!'

'I know that!' She looks up at me, and I have to resist embracing her, or _anything... _'And... And I can never, ever thank you enough for that! But these... these memories, they don't just disappear!'

'I am not asking that you forget your past, Faith, but that you _accept _that you want to move past it!' I take a step closer, so our bodies are just a hands' width apart. 'Why will you not see those innocent batarians for what they are?'

'Because then I'd have just killed three hundred thousand people!' The whispered words strike deep into me, harder than any cry could have, and Faith's face instantly contorts into shock.

_People. _

Not slavers. Not slaves. Not monsters... not even _batarians, _a word loaded with such volatility, but _people._

I had hoped to hear something such as that, but the _anguish _in that whisper!

How could I have been so foolish, to push her into this, _now_, when she is so tired? I should have waited until she was _rested_... Goddess, I am such a fool!

She nearly collapses onto the bed with trembling legs, and I quickly rush across to sit beside her, wrapping one arm around her shoulders and taking her hand with the other.

'Because... because I just killed...'

I pull her in; her hot, heavy, muscular body wracking with silent emotion against my own, her head ducked and resting against my chest, dampness seeping through to my breast. As I hold her tears touch my own eyes, for the pain she so rarely allows herself to feel, for the weight of the deaths on her soul, for the soft knowledge shared between us that she is _not _an uncaring person.

_Oh please, let me have done the right thing... _

I tighten my grip, and she lets loose a single, heart wrenching, sob. I plant a soft kiss on the top of her head, hoping, _wishing_, that I have not pushed her too far...

One of her arms slowly snakes around my lower back, pushing up my shirt in what I know is a need for contact, and her hand is warm against my hip, the touch soft as always, despite her calloused hands.

Eventually her body ceases its silent, heaving sobs and we simply stay, embracing, as time melts away.

* * *

_**A/N: **Special thanks to Vector 71 for the immeasurable assistance with this chapter, it would not be the same without her. _

_If any of my readers are in the mood for something a little different, her short story "Mating Season" is an absolutely incredible piece set when the Leviathan ruled the galaxy, of a romance that echoes through the ages. You can find it here: /s/9008389/1/_


	30. Chapter 30

A gentle tickling across her chin and a heart-meltingly soft snore reaching her ears startled Faith Shepard from her deep, dreamless slumber. Biting down a wave of bile and the terrifying sensation of falling that seemed a constant companion to the waking world, she instinctively took stock of her surroundings with a soldier's efficiency, memories of the previous night flooding back to her. She was safe... on Liara's ship. The room was dark - cool outside of the blanket covering her. And most importantly, there was a soft form nestled into the curve of her body.

_Liara..._.

As her heart rate slowed, vague worries melting away, Faith almost cautiously explored her memories and emotions, as if scared of them... which in a way, she was. She was rested, at least - glancing over Liara's head at the holo on the small desk beside the bed confirmed that she had been asleep for nearly ten hours; substantially longer than her normal need of just four. The seething turmoil of anger and worry she had felt on arriving at Hagalaz had dimmed into a gentle murmur in the back of her mind. And, as she thought back to all she had done since leaving for the batarian system... a dense grief settled in her stomach. After finally admitting to Liara - and herself -the truth of what she had done to the civilians of Bahak, she _hurt. _

When she had taken Liara to Mindoir, she thought the trauma of her past there had finally been purged_._

But in remembering the lives of her family- not without stress and struggle but so full of simple _happiness - _ the true pain of their deathshad been unearthed.

_Dad... Carl... You died protecting your family... I hope I can live up to your memory..._

_Mum... Emily... Mindoir lives on... I hope they did not hurt you before your death..._

_Joy... So shy and smart... You deserved better, than to be killed at the touch of a button, forgotten at the bottom of a nameless pit on a moon remembered only through __**my **__name..._

_Grace... always so cheerful... to see you broken by those monsters, executed before me... I hope my vengeance did not poison your memory..._

Faith had used that grief and anger and pain to spur herself on; to be the very best she could be for herself. She could force herself past such fleeting trifles as physical pain. Let go of abstract concepts like petty morality. What was pain, what was right and wrong, when she had seen her life burn? But in holding to that rage, it had poisoned her. Manifested not just into a deep hatred against those responsible, but also an emotional coldness she was _terrified _to return to. Liara was right. She did not need it any more: she fought for herself now. For her friends. For Liara, and whatever future they could make for themselves.

She felt _lighter _for finally admitting it, for letting go of the old fury. The inferno still burned, but it was _hers _now. To unleash on those who dared assault that which she held dear.

_Reapers..._

The alien name meant nothing to her, but the abstract _concept _of them...

Heartless.

Disgusting.

_Abomination_.

Faith's animosity towards batarians had not vanished: because of all of the emotions tied to the batarians and their actions, she would never be able to view them like other species. But she no longer felt the polluting savagery just at the thought of one. The concept of _innocent _batarians seemed less far-fetched, and a deep sadness ran through her, for the loss of so many lives.

It was a tragedy that she would carry, but one that she could not allow to slow her, or change her course.

_Reapers... Horrifying... Unstoppable..._

Faith's head started hurting, and fear crept into the pit of her stomach when she thought of them and what it would take to fight them.

_Reapers..._

If this - this potential for hatred - carried from her past, was to be a lifelong burden, then she would give it a _deserving _target.

There was so much to do. To translate the flood of Prothean knowledge that the imminent arrival of the Reapers had somehow triggered, into something useful. To explore the Reapers' military tactics, so the admirals of the galaxy's fleets could devise their own. To know the full extent of the Reapers' technology, so the galaxy's scientists could work out ways to defend against them, to fight them, to _break _them . To know every tiniest detail, to mentally and physically file the disjointed knowledge into something useful, in the hopes she could find _something _to use, _something _that would give a galaxy that - if she was brutally honest, currently stood no chance of winning - a fighting chance. And they had only months.

The timescale was _terrifying. _She would have to check a galaxy map to calculate a more exact time until they arrived, but she instinctively knew it was a matter of _months. _

_I wanted years... we __**need **__years... _

The fact suddenly occurred to her that the Citadel trap Saren had tried to activate was merely a matter of _convenience _to the Reapers._ If they were able to travel at FTL speeds to the galaxy in just years after their main entry was denied, they never truly needed it anyway._

_We can't pretend anymore._

_It's time to end the absurd pretence of dancing around the Reapers' existence, of hoping that the Council and the militaries of the galaxy will do what needs to be done through drawn out political negotiating. They must respond to the immediate military threat, with hard and decisive actions, __**now**__._

A harsh truth became obvious to Faith; that one of the only ways she had left to provoke such an action was to start from the ground up. The _people _of the galaxy were still in blissful ignorance as to the truth of what was coming, but it could not last.

The thought of her data packet on the Reapers, sitting mostly unused for months now in the Shadow Broker's archives next to the almost terrifyingly powerful device that would flood it to the extranet, was calling. It was time to update it with what she had learned since then and to use the obliteration of Bahak as a warning. To bite the bullet and make the move that would seal her fate one way or the other. She would prefer more time to debate this with the Council, to have them on her side, before releasing it... and she would ask them again. Tell them alone the truth of her actions in Bahak - they could no more afford the batarians starting a war than humanity alone could - and of her intent. From there...

It was up to the Council to decide how to react. She would continue to prepare the galaxy, with or without their co-operation.

It felt so pointless at times.

Like she was never making any progress.

Like she could push and force and cry and wail and beat helplessly, but it would make no difference.

And worst of all...

The doubts.

That these people she battled every day were not worth fighting for.

_Humanity... so desperate to bully its way to power, that its chosen champion is ignored for petty political gain._

_Turians... so short sighted, so stubborn, so limited in vision that they refuse to see beyond the threats they can fight __**now.**_

_Salarians... so self-interested, so full of complex plans and illusions of grandeur... they cannot face this foe with fast words and scientific brilliance alone._

_Asari... so convinced that their wisdom will outlast any adversity... so enamoured with their delusion of superiority that the mere __**concept **__of a species greater than them is incomprehensible..._

_The other species... belittled into the belief that they are __**inferior **__to the Council races... and when the Reapers come, they __**will **__be inferior. An easy harvest. Humanity will not help them, when our own borders are threatened. They rely on the might of the turians, on a fleet that can only be stretched so thin. Salarian support will disappear into a haze of subclauses and vague promises by absent officials. The deceptive benevolence of the asari's economic promises will seem so petty when death is raining down from above._

Faith could not help the bitter thoughts. Every species had its flaws... and they were all looking out for themselves.

The Council and governments _worked, _for the most part. The constant power play allowed most species to grow, to push for excellence, with the existing balance of power never allowing one to gain any degree of dominance over any other. Faith was not so naive as to believe the galaxy worked in any other way.

But in seeing what the Reapers could do, had done, and _would _do, Faith felt disconnected from it all. The petty squabbles and short sighted goals needed to be set aside, and there appeared to be no will to do so.

Scoffing at her own hypocrisy, Faith thought of her actions on Aratoht. Of the raging hatred, of the destruction she had caused. _I'm in no position to lecture..._

The emotions and guilt burned through her scars and sent a sinking despair through her core. _Movement... _the unconscious shuffle of Liara and her instinct to press into Faith's body for warmth and protection brought Shepard back to her current surroundings. The bed she was sharing with Liara and the wonderful form of the woman she loved... _that _was her reality.

A bittersweet smile pulled across her face.

She knew the _best _of the galaxy's many races. Worked with them, lived with them. Fought with them.

From Garrus - so staunch in his pursuit of justice.

To Thane - a dying warrior of a dying race.

To Wrex - the best hope for his people, who struggled with their very nature.

To Tali - devoted, even to those who heaped injustice on her.

To Kaidan - all that humanity could be... should be... a better man than the war deserved.

_All _of the others she had known and been honoured to call friends.

And... the human tightened her grip around Liara, whilst shifting her head to avoid the asari's crests.

Everything the galaxy told her the asari _should _be. Graceful. Beautiful. Intelligent. Powerful.

Her true reason. Her friends drove her onwards, give her reassurance that there was something in the galaxy worth saving, but Liara was the core of that belief.

_Liara_... The very reason she could stomach the thought of fighting an impossible war.

Faith could not remember falling asleep; she did not know how long she had stayed in Liara's embrace, purging the ghosts of her past with bitter tears and silent sobs, but she must have eventually dozed off, with Liara taking off her boots and trousers and helping her into bed before joining her.

Faith let out a soft breath, feeling the elegant tips of Liara's fringe brush across her lips, and lost her melancholy thoughts of war and work to the pure physical _pleasure _of being so close to her lover. She had to quash an absurd, childish urge to run her tongue across the semi-flexible extremity, tasting the unusual, alien skin and feeling it ripple beneath her ministrations. She knew how sensitive Liara was there, and that doing so would be a fast track to getting an eye poked out.

Instead, she focused on all of the other sensations. Liara always snored, _so _softly, and the little sound was one of Faith's absolute favourite things. The gentle, slightly nasal rasping as she drew in air. The way her breath always hitched at the apex. The almost imperceptible moment of silence, when Faith never failed to hold her own breath - ludicrous terrors that Liara had stopped breathing pulsing through her - before the asari exhaled in a long, slow, sigh; a deeply sensual noise that rushed a visceral heat through Faith's senses.

She listened to Liara sleeping for twenty beautiful breaths, counting each by flexing a finger, then when she ran out, her toes, before she cast her senses outwards.

The human was lying on her side, one arm tucked under the pillow she and Liara were sharing, with the asari curled into her body. Being naturally warmer than asari, Liara often found herself drawn to her human radiator when they slept. Faith held Liara with her strong arm laid gently across a slender blue waist and her calloused hand pressed tenderly into Liara's full breast, held in place by a smaller, softer, blue hand. Between the touch and a gentle exploration with her leg, Faith could feel that Liara was dressed similarly to her; just a small, thin tank top and underwear. Liara usually slept naked, but given the hardly romantic circumstances of the previous night, the attire was entirely appropriate. Wanting to feel more of Liara, Shepard shuffled forwards, shifting at the waist and moulding her legs against the soft, cool, sky-blue legs beneath the blanket, sharing her natural warmth with the cooler asari so not an inch of skin that _could _be pressed against Liara, was not already so occupied.

She counted another twenty soft inhalations, another twenty delicious hitches in breath, another twenty husky sighs.

In the near-darkness of the room, Faith could only see the top of Liara's head from her current vantage point. She would prefer to see a little more; perhaps the delicate curve of Liara's jaw, or the perfect slope of her nose, but the magic of Liara's body pressed into her own overrode that desire, and there was much to enjoy before her eyes. It was a sight Faith knew every tiniest detail of, but nevertheless delighted in re-learning at every possible opportunity.

_One... two... three... four... _Faith started counting the tiny pebbles across the upper rightmost of Liara's crests, despite already knowing how many she would find. The darkened room made the task difficult, and that the tiny bumps nearest her were almost invisible; barely protruding and the same shade as the rest of the asari's skin, did not help. But she eventually reached the scale-like ridges nearer Liara's forehead, those naturally a beautiful snowy white, and was pleased when the final number totalled the same figure it always did. She shifted over to the upper left... tentacle... _I need to learn the real name... _and began counting, delighted when - as always - the count came out three lower than its partner: some of the pebbles were slightly larger on this one.

Longing for a better view of her lover, Faith basked in another twenty mesmerising breaths, closing her eyes and inhaling deeply.

Liara's scent was intoxicating. It seemed to change subtly depending on the situation, but there was always a sweet, slightly spicy undertone of something intriguingly _alien_; the closest comparison Faith could think of was cinnamon, but that was not quite right. Perhaps if she cooked more, or grew flowers, or travelled the galaxy for anything other than fighting she would encounter a better comparison, but until she did, Liara would smell like _Liara, _almost but not like cinnamon. She loved how the scent would... she could only describe it as _soften_... when she and Liara were embracing peacefully like this, awake or asleep. She loved how it would... _is "spicen" a real word?_... when Liara was aroused. She was convinced Liara was lying when she said _that _particular scent was not pure pheromones: the smell, combined with a husky command, had Faith instantly bent to Liara's will. Surely her own little preference for Liara taking charge, being just a little bit forceful, didn't account for her body's complete reluctance to follow any order but Liara's? _Or_, she considered vaguely, _perhaps it does_. Whichever was the truth, she didn't mind. Faith grinned widely as she wondered how many other scents Liara had under different stresses... and almost chuckled aloud at the thought of asking to sniff the asari in the middle of a firefight.

As Faith's chest bucked at the suppressed laugh, Liara's rhythmic breathing _stopped_.

Faith's own breath caught in her throat.

_She's fine, I just disturbed her, any second she'll start that lovely noise again..._

It was a stupid reaction.

It was almost pitiful, how afraid she was.

And yet stupid, pitiful, Faith Shepard held in her breath for three terrifying heartbeats, each lasting a lifetime, before her asari let out a soft sound, as if she were chewing on a muttered word, and resumed her delectably quiet snoring.

For twenty enchanting breaths, counted on her fingers and toes, Faith allowed herself only one.

For the next twenty, she took four.

For the next, Faith forced her breathing back to normal, already chastising herself for being such an idiot, but nevertheless feeling that same tiny twinge of fear each time Liara paused after the hitch at the apex of her breath.

She at once wanted Liara awake to share the moment, and to let her sleep, knowing she had probably not gotten much whilst Faith was away. As tempting as the thought of having an awake asari in bed with her was, after several more minutes of basking in everything _Liara_, Faith decided to let her sleep. Nestling her head into the crook of Liara's shoulder, Faith felt the pull of the sandman herself, and in just minutes her lover's hypnotic breathing drew her back into a dream-free slumber.

_I love you, Liara T'Soni..._

* * *

A gentle tickling across her chin, this time accompanied by a satisfied hum, brought Faith Shepard from her second slumber. With a warm smile she shifted her head into the soft hand caressing her face, replying with an equally content hum.

The touch shifted up to cup Faith's cheek, a thumb gently stroking her cheek bone.

'How are you feeling?' Liara's voice was soft, uncertain. Realising she had fallen asleep with tears in her eyes, clinging to Liara, Faith opened an eye to see the asari kneeling at her side, delicate cerulean features twisted into concern.

'Better,' Faith replied, 'in... every way I can think of.' She frowned suddenly, realising how her words could be misconstrued. 'N-not that I feel good about what happened, I mean, _damn..._'

Frustrated, Faith shook her head, and awkwardly looked up at Liara. '_Please_ tell me you know what I mean.'

Liara smiled softly. 'I believe so. You... see the tragedy for what it is?'

Faith gave a grim nod. She had worked out the worst of her grief, along with everything else, the previous night. Now the incident - as horrible as it was - had been packed away with a soldier's necessity, leaving a deep sadness, another drop to the ocean she already carried. There was nothing else she could do, than ensure the deaths were not in vain. 'Yes. Most of those batarians deserved better than what happened. Than what's going to happen to their memory. I'm going to try to use it to kick start the war effort against the Reapers. Blame it on them.'

'Then though their deaths will be honoured with a lie, it is one that might save billions of lives,' said Liara quietly.

Faith gave a gentle smile. 'Perhaps. But we need to make it worth it.'

'We will,' Liara replied, still kneeling at Faith's side, continuing the soft caress of her human's cheek.

The comfortable silence drew out for several more minutes, before Faith caught Liara's gaze again. 'I... thank you, Liara.'

The asari quirked her head. 'What for?'

'Everything.' Faith sat up a little, propping herself against the back of the bed, and took Liara's hand. 'You... you didn't flinch last night, when you'd have had every right to hate me... or worse. I... don't know what else to say, but thank you.'

Liara smiled softly. 'You do not have to thank me.'

Faith gently leaned forward and playfully touched her forehead to Liara's. 'I'm going to anyway. _Thank you_, Liara T'Soni, for... for being you.'

They stayed in that position for a long time, until they heard Garrus' heavy, distinctive, footsteps pad past the outside of their room, from his quarters to the huge office room.

Faith sighed sadly at the reminder of the outside world. 'Are you ready to get to work?'

Liara pushed Faith down to the bed and laid alongside her, pressing her body into the human's, crested head nestling into a warm shoulder. 'No.'

The asari spoke playfully, but the word rang with certainty that instantly jolted Faith's nerves in a not at all unpleasant manner. Thinking of the mountain of things to do, Faith began, 'We should-'

Sapphire lips, damp with a moisture that tasted like heaven, silenced the human.

A moment of incomprehension - conscious senses temporarily blasted away - passed, before Liara broke the contact and pulled back, grinning mischievously. 'You are correct. We _should_. But neither of us have taken a day off since we returned from Mindoir.'

Liara was right... it had been two months of arguing with politicians, two months of dealing with Cerberus, two months of trawling through ancient data that might have absolutely no relevance. Two months where the only break was the occasional few hours caught when they would share a meal with the Normandy crew, or perhaps watch a quick vid, or sacrifice time that probably should have been spent sleeping to make love.

'Y... you want a day off?'

'I am _taking_ a day off. And you are taking the day off with me.' Liara's upbeat voice left no room for objection, and Faith's heart hitched in anticipation of a whole day with Liara, nothing else mattering...

_Irresponsible, perhaps..._

Liara spoke again, softer this time, as if sensing Faith's hesitation. 'I know we have much to do, but with all that happened...' the asari ran her hand across Faith's stomach, pressing her crested head deeper into the human's shoulder 'I... I would like to spend some time with you.'

Faith heard the uncertainty in Liara's final words, and mentally _kicked_ herself. Liara must have been so worried, when she heard about the relay being destroyed, when she learned the truth of the horrors there, when Faith had effectively broken down in her embrace.

_She needs this..._

Faith drew an arm around Liara, and planted a tender kiss on the top of the asari's head.

* * *

'Thank you, Liara, I _love _it!'

Kasumi grinned as Shepard and Liara began packing away the armour she had lifted from Kassa on the Shadow Broker's orders. She had set an alert on her tool to signal her when the armour crate was opened: she did not want to miss the moment, and had disappeared, leaving Garrus looking amusingly baffled when the warning finally came through.

The pair were just too damned _cute_; Shepard's presence seemed to embolden the shy asari, leading the pair to joke together, share secret glances, and all manner of other stuff that she _probably _shouldn't be spying on. And Liara seemed to banish the usual stoic expression Shepard wore just by being there: Kasumi could not remember seeing the soldier smile so much as she had over the last hour or so.

If the thief was one for justifying herself, she'd rationalise that it wasn't _too _creepy to hide amidst the crates watching them: she'd never been attracted to women (or asari), but simply enjoyed the warm glow that came with watching people in love. She'd always been a sucker for a good romance tale... and heroic soldier rescues shy scientist, go on to become pair that save the galaxy? It didn't get much better than that. It wasn't like she was in for the sexual thrill or anything.

Right?

Still, Kasumi wouldn't be letting anybody know she had watched them. People seemed to misunderstand her when she mentioned it. Garrus was probably tearing his mandibles off looking for her... but hey, what was a girl to do?

Dressed just in the tight, padded, underarmour, Shepard drew Liara into a hug and planted a kiss on the asari's cheek, grinning broadly. 'I didn't know you knew it was my birthday!'

Liara's face creased into confusion. 'Your what?'

_Ooo, the plot thickens!_

'My... birthday? Do... asari not do that?'

At Liara's confused head shake, Shepard continued. 'Humans give gifts to their friends and loved ones on the anniversary of their birth... It'll be the date of my birth on Earth in...' she pulled up her omni-tool and tapped a few keys, before looking up and beaming at the asari, 'Four days!'

Liara seemed to think on that for a moment. 'That seems rather inefficient. The exact date and time on any given planet is almost meaningless to those not actually on the planet because of a number of factors, not to mention... You were not even born on Earth! Do all humans set their calendars to your home planet's time?'

Shepard's face joined Liara's in confusion. 'I... I never really thought about it. We stick to galactic standard most of the time in the Alliance for ops and things, but even on ships you'll have people celebrating their birthdays using Earth dates.'

Liara nodded slowly, clearly unhappy with the rather unscientific method the silly humans used, but trying to understand. 'Keeping these traditions alive is certainly to be commended... you celebrate this once per Earth year?'

Shepard nodded enthusiastically. 'I've never bothered since I joined the Alliance, but a lot of people do.' Suddenly the human smiled wistfully, eyes glazing over a little, and Kasumi's heart lit up at how adorable she looked, with Liara eagerly paying attention, clearly happy at Shepard's happiness. 'Dad always used to make sure none of us were working the farms on our birthdays, and we'd all chip in to get a present for whoever's birthday it was. We didn't have much, but we'd try to build a toy out of old parts, or maybe bake a huge cake... sometimes we'd buy things off any traders that happened to stop by. Joy always loved little asari trinkets... she'd have _loved _to have met you.'

Kasumi's stomach churned with an uncomfortable guilt. She'd heard of the tragedy of the first human Spectre's childhood, of course... and though it was stupid for her to make the distinction between watching the pair get all lovey, and listen to them talk about their pasts... a voyeur needed standards. She was relieved when Shepard brought the conversation back into something she was more comfortable... _overhearing._

'Do asari really not do anything like that?'

Liara chuckled. 'We keep track of our age, but do not celebrate its annual accrual. We live for a thousand years... if we did as humans do we would accumulate a great many gifts over our lifespans. However, we do celebrate certain milestones in our lives, many of which occur in childhood.'

Shepard suddenly looked as fascinated as Liara did, as the asari sat down on the crate. Shepard followed suit, speaking excitedly, 'What kind of milestones?'

'Oh, there are many! When we first manifest our biotics, when we successfully complete our first meld as the "active" partner, when we achieve a certain level of education... up to us birthing our first daughter, when we reach our matron stage, and so on.'

Kasumi, hidden directly ahead of the pair, could see Shepard nod, smiling, as she held Liara's hand. 'I like that idea. You celebrate achievements that way, not just an accidental date.'

Liara squeezed Shepard's hand. 'Your species' practices have an appeal, I cannot deny it. A regulated annual celebration? I must remember the date, so I can prepare better next year.'

Kasumi's heart soared at the little back-and-forth; both clearly knew that the galaxy would be going to hell this time next year, but seemed to be quite happy to ignore the fact at this moment.

'So, Faith... how many years you will have accumulated, in four days time?'

Shepard chuckled. 'You're making me sound like some sort of... age... accountant! I'll be thirty two, but I'm _pretty _sure I could argue for thirty.'

Kasumi had heard rumours of Shepard's disappearance... but to hear her actually talk about it? The thief shook her hooded, cloaked head. _Crazy_. At least Shepard had the decency to look slightly uncomfortable at the prospect of her possibly being a zombie.

Liara grinned mischievously. 'Perhaps I prefer thirty two. Asari reach the full physical maturity of the maiden stage at approximately thirty years old, so it makes me feel less of a... "cradle-robber."'

Kasumi's eyes widened as Shepard suddenly began choking, coughs echoing around the otherwise deserted cargo bay.

'Goddess, Faith, are you alright?' Liara instantly jumped up, one hand on Shepard's back, looking nervous.

The human nodded helplessly, turning a deep beetroot colour, before taking a deep breath, and looking incredulously at Liara. '_Cradle-robber?_'

'D... did I say it incorrectly?' The sultry, teasing asari had instantly disappeared into a wide-eyed, uncertain young woman.

'No... I just... where on Earth did you hear that?' Shepard stood up, cheeks still flushed, though she had an amused glint in her eye, and a grin that mirrored Kasumi's own.

Liara's eyebrow markings crumpled into confusion. 'I did not hear it on Earth. I overheard Joker use the term, and did some research on my own to discover its meaning.' Suddenly Liara's face brightened. 'Humans have so many unusual slang phrases! You must teach me more of them!'

Shepard chuckled, and pulled Liara into a hug. 'If you want to spend more time with me, my cradle robbing asari, I'm sure I can accommodate. But...'

The human lowered her voice to a whisper Kasumi could not hear, though judging by the dark blush that crossed Liara's face a few seconds later, she hoped it was something _deliciously _lewd and inappropriate.

Deciding to leave the couple to their own devices before she saw something she _really _didn't want to, Kasumi silently dismounted her perch, and slunk off to find Garrus with a content smile across her face.

* * *

**_A/N: _**_Huge thanks to Vector 71 for helping get this into shape. _

_This chapter was originally going to be rather different (and longer!), but I have split it into two parts and kept most of the emotional fallout from the previous few chapters into this... so hopefully the next is free to be full of fluff and naughtiness without those pesky Reapers getting in the way :-p It is already mostly written so should be up in a few days :-)_

_Thank you to everybody who continues to read, follow, favourite and give feedback to this story, it is always lovely to hear from you!_


	31. Chapter 31

_**A/N: **This story has had a lot of ups and downs, drama and angst, and there will indeed be tough times to come._

_This chapter... has none of that. Advance warning for explicit sex throughout! _

_Thank you to Jay8008 and Vector 71 for the help :-)_

* * *

Faith's body is wonderfully warm as she pulls me into an embrace, and again that feeling of _rightness, _of safety and reassurance, fills me... and the nightmare of not knowing where she is, what she is doing, what stresses she may be under, is buried just a little deeper.

For now. Until the next mission.

_Goddess... _Will it always be like this?

War and fighting and uncertainty...

It is all I can do, all she can do, to enjoy this moment, _now_, and I try to relax in her strong arms.

Her playful voice manages that thing it always does when she is feeling well, of banishing the doubts, of reminding me there _is _a future for us to fight for, that we can share...

'If you want to spend more time with me, my cradle robbing asari, I'm sure I can accommodate. But...'

Her lips move closer, and her voice becomes a husky whisper, 'I would _rather,_' her hand slips lower, over the incredibly sensitive area at the small of my back, and applies a luxurious pressure... Goddess... to feel so _right... _'Do something other than talk about human slang...'

_Oh... I missed her so much... I was so worried..._

Faith does something magical with her fingers at my spine and... _Goddess... _my legs buckle, but she is there to catch me, arms softly cradling me as I rest my head on her shoulder.

_We needed this..._

I tighten my own grip, and think with a smile to the other slang phrases I happened across when researching Joker's term... those whose descriptions had me nervously looking over my shoulder to ensure nobody else was spying.

I shift and nibble on her exquisitely sensitive ear, to be rewarded by a tiny gasp of pleasure and her halting her ministrations long enough for me to sink a hand through her hair, its strands now slightly longer than my fingers, tugging lightly as I know she likes. 'I learned some _other _human phrases, Faith... your species is _remarkably _creative.'

'Hmm? And what terms would those be?' Her head shifts under my hand, tugging some of her hairs tighter, so I increase the pressure, massaging her skull just as she resumes her own activities at my back.

With a wicked grin, I channel my most seductive voice. 'I particularly enjoyed the concept of "getting your tail"'

Faith's giggle somewhat breaks the mood.

_Goddess..._did I get it wrong? I thought that was correct! 'D... did I say it wrong?'

She tightens her embrace, releasing that wondrous pressure but pulling our bodies closer together, and that amazing warmth and safety again flows through me, that amazing sensation of being _loved, _cared for, in this tumultuous time. 'Almost. That's... not quite the right context.'

I pull back a bit, so I can see her face. Her scars are fading, thank the Goddess, and to see such a smile on her face, to hear her laugh so freely... to laugh and love with her as well... I wish we could do this forever. I fix her with my best serious face, and speak gravely, 'You must tell me the correct way to say it!'

I hate getting things wrong; especially those I researched!

Faith snickers with amusement, her eyes dancing as she replies in a low, breathy voice. 'Hmm... only if you tell me some asari slang.'

Oh, so _that's _how it will be...

I lean in, and whisper into her ear, 'I am sure you remember what _azure _means?'

I can almost see the cheeky smile on her face as she replies, 'I am _intimately _familiar with the concept.'

An involuntary tremor runs through me at her husky reply. She certainly is...

'Then I trust you can deduce what "Dancing the azure steps" might involve?' I feel a blush run to my cheeks at the whispered words, but also an _excitement_, to say such things I normally would not, 'or perhaps "drinking of the darkest waters"?'

She hums pleasantly, body trembling wonderfully against my own, 'They sound so graceful... don't the asari have any... _lewd_... ones?'

I lick my lips, and push my hips forward, wanting to feel _more _of her, to know she is back, here, unharmed... to _have _her. 'I prefer yours.'

Pushing up the back of Faith's padded underarmour, I can feel her back is warm, and again she shudders most pleasantly... to know I can elicit such reactions... it is almost intoxicating... and I know _she _enjoys being under my power as much as I enjoy holding it.

'Especially the simple ones without confusing idioms...'

Faith lazily raises her arms, and I happily oblige, peeling the tight garment from her, revealing her muscular, toned body, clad now just in a sports bra from the waist up, resisting with limited success the urge to claim her, to take her as mine right here in this cargo bay as she slowly draws the zipper down the side of my uniform, pulling it down my arms so it hangs around my hips, revealing the tank top I slept in.

We both take a step back, visually drinking in each others' bodies.

Faith can be quite self conscious; thinking her broad shoulders, tight bands of muscle and smaller breasts make her unattractive... but she is _beautiful._

Her golden skin pulls appealingly against the muscles beneath it, rippling in a way that just makes me want to... mmm... _pounce _her, and my mouth runs dry at the thought of drawing my fingers, my tongue, over every _inch _of her, caressing her breasts that fit so perfectly in my hands, eliciting those deliciously soft but... _Goddess... _so passionate noises from her, make her writhe beneath me as I part the dark veil I know lies just beneath the black, knee-length armoured leggings and touch and taste and _have her._

The moment stretches out, a hot tension moistening the folds at the back of my head, an electric spark running down my spine, a delicious heat rushing between my legs, and I can see Faith similarly gazing at me with a _hunger _in her eyes. At a wordless signal the moment erupts and our bodies and mouths crash into each other, hands everywhere at once, uncontrolled and wild, our tongues dancing for dominance, her heady _human _taste annihilating my senses into an all consuming urge...

I pull back, gasping for air, feeling my biotics flare and that _pull_, to join the union, to be _one_ with her, to know and share that strength and passion... her half-lidded eyes are heavy with promise and lust and love, and I lean in, whispering that most lewd human slang, 'I want to _fuck _you_, _Faith.'

* * *

They made it back to the bedroom, somehow.

Faith's padded top lay forgotten in the cargo bay. The matching leggings were by the bedroom door. One shoe was in the corridors somewhere, the other kicked off as she was pushed backwards by an exhilaratingly assertive Liara, eventually tossed back onto the bed wearing just her sports bra and underwear.

As Faith shuffled slowly up the bed, Liara stood before her and with an arousing grace that she seemed to manage so _effortlessly, _slowly gyrated her hips until the scientists' uniform slipped down to her thighs. Liara never broke eye contact as she bent over at the waist, offering Faith a view of the magnificent cerulean cleavage underneath the dark tank top Liara was wearing, and seductively slid the uniform down her legs so she could step out, clad just in black, slightly lacy underwear.

As Faith tried to sit up a little, Liara leaned forward and, with a biotically charged hand, pushed her back onto the bed. Without any further ado the asari abruptly straddled her, legs either side of her waist. Faith licked her lips - her mouth suddenly dry with the knowledge of what Liara was showing her. That she was owned by this beautiful asari, and that fact was about to be very certainly demonstrated. Her heart began to hammer harder into her chest at the brief moment of being unable to control her own body. In any other situation she hated not being in control, but when she was helpless to Liara...

She _loved _it. She loved letting down every carefully erected wall, built through years of hardship. She loved Liara blasting through whatever pointless taboos she held. She loved letting go of the expectation that she would have an answer, a plan, an inspiring speech. It was hard, sometimes: but Liara was amazingly patient and perceptive in applying just the right amount of pressure, and never pushed her more than she was comfortable being pushed.

As Liara pinned her to the bed, Faith suddenly became _very _aware of _just _how barely clothed the asari was. The perfect cerulean thighs gripping her waist were visibly trembling with the exertion, pebbled skin subtly darkening as it disappeared into Liara's lacy black underwear, into an erotic map of pleasure-giving skin and bundles of nerves and splendidly sensitive flesh, down into Liara's pool of radiating heat.

Swallowing thickly, Faith dragged her gaze upwards, over the flared hips and sloping into a slender blue waist, exposed beneath one of her own black tank tops which was riding up Liara's stomach, stretched temptingly across the chest by the seductive sapphire surprises contained within. That delicious, almost-but-not-cinnamon scent filled Faith's senses, adding a seductive and flaring _edge _to her world that made every breath like breathing in a hint of heaven.

'Do you like what you see, human?' Liara's voice rang with a pleased, lusty, humour, and Faith smiled in return as she looked up at the gorgeous face above her, navy lips curled into a siren smile.

'You know I -' the human spoke teasingly as she raised her hands, meaning to run them along Liara's heavenly thighs, when without warning Liara collared Faith by the wrists, hands fizzing with biotics, and pinned her to the bed, lips now just centimeters away from her own, breasts tantalisingly brushing her own, trailing fire through the clothing between them.

'I did not give you permission to touch me,' Liara whispered huskily, and Faith flushed with a wonderful, embarrassed, heat.

'S... sorry...' she felt herself slipping deeper into their game, relishing the worries slipping away into the void, everything other than the _here _and _now _ceasing to matter.

'Can I trust you not to make that mistake again? Or will I be forced to... _bind _you?' the asari threatened, eyes narrowing.

The thought of being held in place as Liara had her way with her had Faith grinding her hips helplessly against a friction that refused to appear, until she finally realised Liara was expecting an answer, and would not move until Faith gave one. Wordlessly, she clasped one wrist, still held over her head, with the other hand.

Seeing the motion, Liara nodded, released her own grip and sat up again, putting a comfortable pressure just above Faith's pubic mound. 'Good.'

Closing her eyes, Liara suddenly lit up with an aura of beautiful blue fire. Faith squirmed as her stomach muscles began dancing; Liara's glowing legs in contact with the bare skin were sending ripples through her entire body, like static without the harsh electric edge.

As the magnificent cobalt eyes opened again, Faith noticed that they now held a hungry, _predatory_ look, and a delicious spike of excitement began to pulse through her.

'I hope you were not planning on wearing this again...' Liara reached down with one hand and literally tore off Shepard's sports bra, biotics reducing the hardy fabric to shreds, sending Faith's heart into overdrive, 'because it is in my _way_.'

The last word came out as an impassioned growl as a soft hand clad in electric fire cupped Faith's left breast, perfect pressure blasting away conscious thought as her skin smoldered under the biotics. Her dark eyes rolled into the back of her head at the touch, a carnal groan escaping her lips, her back arching into the caress, shifting slightly side to side, hoping, _needing, _Liara to touch the sensitive peak, hard with arousal. The groan eventually turned into a sob of frustration as Liara refused to comply, instead softly massaging the sensual flash of her breast which fit perfectly into the small blue hand, still rippling with biotic fire, sparks of pleasure raging through Faith's body.

'Your heart is beating so fast...' Liara sounded mesmerised, as though the sensation was life to herself as well as Faith, hand pressed firmly against her breast, over her heart, as Faith saw only a map of violet stars in the back of her head. 'And...'

The second touch came completely without warning, an electrified finger flicking over her right nipple that caught Faith's breath in her throat, involuntarily bucking her hips - bouncing Liara slightly - and drew out a gasp of pleasure.

Wanting, _needing _more, Faith released her hands and began to bring them down, only for Liara to let out a feral growl, and remove the electric touches from her breasts.

Squeezing her eyes shut as an involuntary whimper left her, Faith chewed her bottom lip as she re-clasped her hands above herself. She was about to open her eyes again, perhaps even whisper a plea for more - something she knew Liara would love - when a mouth pounced down onto her left breast - a rough, hot tongue wetly dragging a path over her stiffened peak, tingling with biotic energy and shooting lightning bolts through Faith's nervous system.

With a sharp intake of breath through her teeth, Faith's back arched, pressing her chest into Liara's mouth, a maddening pressure beginning to build between her legs, still denied any friction by the asari straddling her.

Faith began squirming at the waist and finally managed to open her eyes, to be treated to the sight of Liara's dark lips curling up in a predatory grin, baring a flash of white teeth as she nibbled at a pink tip with _just _the right amount of pressure. Faith let out another gratified groan, and was rewarded when Liara looked up, big blue eyes meeting her own. Something about Liara keeping eye contact even as her tongue slowly worked its way around Faith's nipple drove the human absolutely wild, and again her hips bucked, causing Liara to frown slightly. The asari ceased her ministrations and slowly raised her head, biotics fading but never breaking that provocative stare, bringing Faith's breast with it... until her nipple, hard and damp from Liara's suckling, slipped from the asari's mouth with a quiet _pop _that flushed yet another rush of heat between her legs.

Liara leaned forward and replaced her hands on Faith's wrists, holding the human down to the bed as she leaned in, brushing her lips across a sensitive ear as she whispered. 'If you cannot control yourself, I will keep you on the cusp of release all day.'

Clenching her teeth in frustration, Shepard forced her body still at the throaty threat, but she could not resist at least curling her toes, pulling the sheets into them as she ached for Liara's touch.

'Much _better_.'

As the husky word ended, Faith let out another satisfied yet pleading groan as Liara ran the tip of her tongue across her earlobe, before gently sinking her teeth into the tiny globe of flesh, lighting up Faith's nerves, the tiny gesture amplifying all of the other contact she had with Liara, including at her wrists, still delightfully pinned to the bed by Liara's hands and weight. She felt her hands curl just as her toes were, fingertips dragging along the insides of Liara's wrists.

The asari moved back a little bit so Faith could see her softly smiling face. 'You wish to move your arms?'

Faith nodded with a dry mouth. Liara considered this for a moment, then released her human's wrists. 'Take my top off.' The quiet words were spoken with authority, and Faith readily complied, muscles aching slightly, as she dragged the black tank top over Liara's head, releasing the exquisite treasures contained within. Before she could even throw it to one side, Liara moved quickly, clasping the garment that was now wrapped around both of Faith's hands.

'I am not finished with you yet.' Liara leaned further forward, dragging Faith's newly bound hands with her, and began securing the clothing, and her human, to the bed frame.

Faith could not help herself. A tempting, tantalising breast swayed softly over her head, so she leaned up and darted her tongue out, instantly hardening Liara's nipple, then pulled it more fully into her mouth, slowly moistening the delicious peak, deliberately working at a pressure and pace just lower than she knew Liara preferred.

'Mmm... Goddess...' hearing Liara's sigh of pleasure emboldened Faith, so she pressed her head forward slightly, taking more of Liara into her mouth. She was rewarded with another carnal groan drawn from the asari who arched her back briefly, before drawing back, leaving a disappointed Faith now tied to the bed. She could easily pull herself free from the flimsy knot if she truly desired, but gave a small show of struggling against the bond for Liara's benefit.

Liara grinned widely. Faith knew that as much as she enjoyed bending to Liara's will, the asari equally enjoyed holding the power. 'I told you what would happen if you could not control yourself.'

Faith's heart began to beat faster, and a quiet 'Please...' was torn from her lips.

'However, since your tongue is so...' the asari darted her own tongue out, running it over her sapphire lips, '_talented, _I will allow your transgression to go unpunished.'

Liara, now clad in just her lacy black underwear, shuffled down Faith's body until she was squatting over the human's knees, and Shepard felt another excited rush as she anticipated what her asari was about to do.

Liara held up one hand and again lit up with biotics, the power shifting and focusing until the enticing flames danced across just one arm, then her hand... then finally her fingertips, audibly humming in the room that was otherwise quiet save for Shepard's increasingly laboured breaths.

With an agonising, deliberate slowness, Liara dragged her energised fingertips up the inside of Faith's thigh, trailing sparks in their wake, stopping just short of the wonderful ache between her legs, letting out an amused hum.

Faith opened an eye in time to see Liara dropping her hand, applying the lightest pressure that nevertheless had Faith's hips squirming involuntarily again, a pressure that lasted just a second before Liara brought a glistening finger up to her mouth and slowly wrapped her tongue around it, lapping up Faith's arousal... cerulean eyes never breaking their contact with Faith's chocolate brown, the red lights all but faded after her vindication and rest.

The pair stared at each other for a moment, Liara's eyes full of a devious mischief and lusty promise, Faith's heavy with pleasure, both swimming with love and affection.

Eventually Liara gave a wicked grin, and another flash of biotics saw Faith's ruined briefs tossed aside.

A glance full of promises and reassurance passed between the women, before Liara licked her lips and dipped her head to hungrily dive in, and Faith's consciousness melted into a vivid haze of wanton pleasure and unrestrained desires.

With a maddeningly deliberate slowness, Liara whirled and twisted and danced her masterful tongue, each subtle curl and delightful pressure and warm, damp flick drawing her human closer and closer to glorious release, a release Faith _yearned _for, all promises of remaining still forgotten by both as she writhed against Liara's mouth.

It did not take long.

Almost instinctively as Faith's breath began to hitch, Liara ceased her dreamy, deliberate motions, looked up with those huge blue eyes and stepped up the tempo, attacking her with a fierce passion that in just seconds brought a tidal orgasm to Faith, a crashing wave on which rode the teeming lust and desire that had been building for what seemed like hours, eliciting a rare, uncontrolled cry of the asari's name from the usually more subdued human. Trembling thighs gripping Liara's head as the asari's tongue continued to unravel her from the inside, the knot holding her hands in place instantly torn as Faith convulsed helplessly, only for her to grab the bed frame in a desperate attempt to control her body. Just as the first crest began to give way to pulsing aftershocks, Liara's biotically charged fingers slid inside of her as the warm tongue found the sensitive bundle of nerves just above, and before Faith's arched back had even relaxed into the bed again a second magnificent orgasm burst through her, blasting time itself into an azure dream.

* * *

This is _life..._

Giving such pleasure, feeling the passion _seep _from Faith, that wondrous energy and heat and life and love...

Knowing that she is here, she is alive, she is ok, she is _mine..._

Her heavy breathing, thin sheen of sweat across her beautiful golden body...

My own senses tingling... _Goddess... _

Having Faith at my fingertips like that... the scent of her... the taste...

All...

_Intoxicating..._

A gentle touch brushes across my lips, as I lie beside her, 'Faith... what are you-?'

'Mmm... Kissing you,' she mutters into my mouth.

Deeper, her warm tongue softly dancing across my lips, seeking permission. A stupid thought runs through my mind, 'B - but I...'

'Taste like me?'

'Yes...' As I speak she softly draws her tongue around my mouth, tasting her own essence, then meets my lips again, and I can taste that heady nectar on her, 'Mmm... Goddess...'

'Why should... mmm... that stop me?'

Unrelenting, a hand sneaks around my waist to again caress my back, the mere promise of a touch softly flaring my biotics, and her kiss is more insistent, passionate, _loving_, and I offer one final protest - 'Be... mmm... because I...' - before she cuts me off, pulling back slightly, and I see her look at me, eyes sparkling with love and a hint of humour.

'T'Soni?'

'Mmm?'

'Shut up and kiss me.'

_That is a lovely idea... I might just oblige..._

* * *

They kissed.

The contact was soft. Tender. Loving. Faith's body still hummed with pleasure from Liara's attentions, and she wanted...

_Everything..._

_I want this moment to last a lifetime..._

She wanted to know every tiniest detail of Liara, to touch her, to taste her, to _drown _in her...

She wanted to promise she would never leave again, that she would always come back, promises Faith wished she could ever truthfully make...

The kiss deepened. She could taste that heady taste of herself on Liara's lips, the aroma itself exciting her little but the knowledge of how it got there... of Liara _consuming _her...

Their breaths became one; she could taste the sweet air from Liara's lungs and shared her own back, mixing with the warm air of their room, neither wanting to break the magnificent contact.

Their motions became one. At some implicit command the pair shifted so both had greater freedom to roam the sensual maps of the others' bodies. As a soft blue hand sank into her hair, Faith hummed in pleasure as those perfect lips parted to reveal a perfect tongue, dancing with her own, tasting the wonderful alien nectar as the slow, graceful play continued.

Faith drew her hand up, loving the feeling of Liara trembling softly beneath her fingers, stroking the slick heat across the delicate folds at the back of Liara's head, the asari's heady moan echoing throughout her body, rippling across her lips and pulsing through their ever-dancing tongues.

She softly slid her fingers into the grooves, a gasp of pleasure finally breaking the kiss, as Liara tightened her grip in her hair, gently tugging and flushing her with a want... a _need_... to give Liara everything, all of her, to blast away the worries she so often wore.

Faith shifted herself, so one of her own arms was trapped under Liara, fingers playing over those amazingly sensitive tendrils, moist with a hedonistic lust, and her other hand was now free, to...

They kissed.

The slow, tender dance was nowhere to be found this time. Lips crashed together, heady moans escaping both throats as Faith slid her free hand down to the alluring azure pleasure garden, a sensual design of sensitive skin and multiple buds similar to her own and ever-wanting flesh, each causing Liara a subtly different bliss.

Softly, she pushed down the last of Liara's clothing, the asari easily complying with a graceful shift of her waist and legs, until she casually flicked the garment away with her toes.

Before Liara could make any further move, Faith splayed her hand, thumb and pinky drawing aside the slick perfect folds as she danced her middle finger across a sensitive area and pressed her index into a one of several gentle nubs, gyrating it slowly.

Liara lit up with biotics, gasping in erotic bliss. Faith took great pleasure in learning the complex map of the asari's body, and knew the touch of her fingers, combined with her stroking the tendrils beneath the graceful crest, would give Liara a deep, warming thrill without pushing her too close to the beautiful edge. She could, and had in the past, kept Liara breathless for _hours _like this, but this was different... maybe later they would draw out the passion, each giving and taking in a physical celebration of their love, but now was a reminder that not everything was pain and loss, a reminder that love and care still existed, that _life _was theirs to live, to share in this moment.

_Now..._

Faith moved her hand, brushing a finger across Liara's opening: asari _could _have penetrative sex but it did not give the same intense pleasure to them as it did to humans, and Liara generally preferred not to at all, so instead Faith pressed into the thin muscles just around it, thumb finding another exquisitely sensitive bud, and was rewarded as Liara began moaning softly into her ear: this touch would build towards a crescendo, which could be heightened by...

She took the nearest of Liara's luscious nipples into her mouth, tongue buzzing with the wisps of biotics dancing across the asari's body and Liara's hand suddenly released from her hair - out of the corner of her eye she could see both were clenching helplessly into the sheets - so Faith began to hum, knowing the vibrations of her tongue on Liara's sensitive breast would drive the asari _wild, _not disappointed when Liara's hips bucked helplessly and the moans grew louder.

A particularly violent heave of Liara's chest managed to dislodge Faith's mouth, but before she could find that delicious peak again, hand still dexterously toying in the azure depths of Liara's arousal, Liara reached her head up and again pushed her lips into Faith's, darting out a tongue which Faith gratefully received, basking in the wonderful alien taste of her lover.

She wished she could give Liara more... Their lips, locked in a passionate duel. The heat of the folds beneath Liara's crest at her fingers, the semi-flexible crest itself slightly crumpled over her hand, holding it in place as the asari's head was back against the bed. The quivering between Liara's legs as she shifted her touch into something yet more visceral for Liara, pushing her ever closer to the edge she sensed the asari was nearing.

Liara broke the kiss, panting with heavy breaths, 'F... Faith... I... I... need...'

'Do it!'

Their consciences melted together.

Liara reached out with a meld which Faith hungrily accepted, feeling the pure essence of _Liara _crash into her; the asari reeling with love and affection and an almost unstoppable arousal, the sudden ghost touches across the back of Faith's head sending sparks down her spine, the pleasure between her legs different to that she was used to but so _magnificent._ The union was not just physical; she felt _everything _that was her lover; the care, the worries of the last days, the happiness that _now _things were ok, the intelligence, the kindness too often buried, the strength of character and _everything _sucked into a maelstrom of passion and love and devotion and reassurance and shared strength.

With a final shift of both of her hands, Faith pressed her fingertips deep into the folds on Liara's head - firmly massaging the delicate flesh - and splayed her other hand so each finger touched a deep blue bud, lighting up Liara's body and her own with an unfathomable pleasure that touched every sense and every nerve with a beautiful caress, tumbling Liara and herself off an impossible cliff, falling together, embracing as they fell through eternity.


	32. Chapter 32

'I hate this ship.'

The words slip from my mouth before my brain even forms the thought, staining the beautiful mood lingering from our lovemaking. It takes me a moment to process my own words, what they mean - and I find myself chilled.

Faith, lying with her chest pressed against my back, strong arms wrapped around me, jolts in a surprise mirrored by my own. _Why did I say that?_ I do not _truly _hate it - the ship itself is comfortable enough, and holds an immense practical value to our work. As the bliss of our union faded, I caught glimpses of Faith's plans for when we get back to work: she is going to use the creatively named Extranet Surge Tool on this ship, built where the cargo hold on a normal ship would be. The tool which has a singular purpose: to flood the extranet with whatever the Shadow Broker desires.

Once she has done so, the ship's usefulness will have been exhausted. The raw data has already been exported and archived. The networks of contacts can be managed from any given terminal, with the right access. The Shadow Broker's true power lies not in the huge files of knowledge - though that is by no means a small part of the arsenal - but the agents and informants present at every level in just about every major government, military body, criminal organisation, multi-planetary corporation and political power, constantly reporting to give a huge, complex view of what is _really _happening in the galaxy. And on top of that, the Broker's... _my_... power to shape the course of the galaxy through these people.

I do not need the ship for that. We will destroy it once we move back onto the _Normandy_... and yet the thought of seeing it crash into Hagalaz fills me with an entirely inappropriate and silly, petty anticipation.

_Why did I say it?_

'What do you mean?' Faith asks quietly, head just behind my own, warm breath tickling my still-sensitive crests.

_I did not mean to spoil this perfect moment, what is wrong with me? _'I apologise Faith, it is nothing, I did not want to-'

She gently pulls me to my back, hovering over me, face singing worry.

'Saying you _hate _something isn't _nothing_,Liara. What's wrong? Did... did something happen while I was away?'

'No,' I shake my head, feeling my crest crumpled against the soft pillows beneath it, and catch Faith's concerned eyes, 'No, nothing happened, I was just...'

I smile up at her, then push her softly to her back, resting my head on her bare shoulder before speaking again. 'I was just... that was so... _perfect._'

Breathing in deeply, Faith's heady scent filling my senses, I allow darkness to swallow me as I close my eyes. 'Then, I opened my eyes, and we were still on this ship... the words came out before I could stop them.'

I reach up and trail a hand lazily through her hair, still enjoying the strange sensation after all of these months: like water, given solid form. 'I am sorry, I did not want to spoil anything.'

Faith stays silent for several moments, breathing deeply, her own hand gently pressing into my back - a wonderfully comfortable sensation.

'What do you think of as home?' Her quietly asked question rings through me like a bell.

_Home..._

'I do not...'

I draw in a deep breath, trying to fill the uncomfortable void the innocent question uncovered... and that scent, that curious, heady, _human _scent, almost answers the question for me. That scent means safety, means home, but... _Goddess_... why is it so hard to answer as she intends me to?

My first instinct is to reply with mother's estate on Thessia - now technically mine even though it is managed by a private company and operated by those who have worked there for centuries - but that has not been my _home _for decades.

When I left for university, mother and I parted with not unkind, but not loving, words; her disappointment at my choice was clear in the cold way she handled my accommodation and paid for my studies, without a word of encouragement. But I was determined... that I was doing the right thing. That I would press ahead, with or without her blessing. That... that when she saw I was serious in my path, she might cease imagining it a childish fancy.

I looked back as I left that day, and realised even _then _that I did not feel I was leaving home. Mother had been so busy for _years _before I left, and most of the time we did spend together was my accompanying her to parties and meetings with dignitaries, at which my role was to impress with elegant, meaningless conversation as mother planted seeds of her long-term plans.

The house - a large estate near Armali - was not a home. It was a training ground for mother's acolytes. It was a place of education for myself and others. A graceful meeting place where plans and investments were made.

I could not consider sitting alone in my enormous and richly furnished room - studying, eating a cold meal I quickly prepared myself - as beingat _home. _

'I... I have not lived somewhere I would call "home" for years now, Faith. I had the quarters my mother paid for at university, then my dig sites.'

I smile into her shoulder, remembering that warmth, when she first caught me... 'But then you rescued me on Therum, and the _Normandy _was more of a home than any I have known since I was a child. You helped me find friends, a purpose that felt more... _real_... than my Prothean research ever did.' I take a deep breath. 'When it was gone...'

Those years... they were _awful. _

Alone.

Losing more and more of myself into the heartless underbelly of Illium and the sordid information trade.

More money than I had ever controlled, and yet, 'I owned, _own_, several apartments on Illium. I usually stayed in the one you visited, but for all I spent making it mine, it never felt like home. A-at least, u... until...'

Faith tightens her grip as my voice breaks, remembering that horrific event... Nyxeris... trying to pry information from my mind as I _slept... _

And Faith was there for me. Despite having suffered an appalling attack herself at the hands of a monstrous Ardat-Yakshi, she put aside her mission for _days _to help me, to comfort me when I thought I had nobody left. 'It felt like a home when you were there. It... it is absurd, isn't it? With all that happened... and we were covering up a dead body! But when we were done... I felt at peace. Like I could be _happy, _living there with you.'

I feel a gentle kiss on the top of my crests. 'I know what you mean. Despite everything, I still cherish that day. I... I know that was a random question, but I was thinking how... _different_... it is, when we make love on the _Normandy_. Somehow, over the years she's become my home. When I open my eyes and see my cabin... what you said reminded me of that. This place isn't your home, is it?'

'No,' I admit, knowing it as truth. 'I still feel an unwelcome intruder here.'

'What about the _Normandy_?'

_The Normandy... _

'I... do not know. I feel more comfortable there, than here. But the memories there are not mine. I... I could not join you against the Collectors. Some of the crew share jokes and moments I do not understand.' Every day I look back and see how foolish I was to keep away from Faith as she hunted the Collectors: in hindsight, my own work and reasons seem so _petty_. I used the excuse that I could not conduct my research, my hunt, from on board a ship, but that is simply untrue. I was scared, after two years of working _alone, _of letting anybody else in. Just as Faith was, when she turned me away before Ilos. We both made such foolish mistakes... but they led to us being here, together, _now_... so did the path lead us to a greater appreciation of what we have?

'Do you... _want _to feel at home there?' she asks quietly.

_Do I?_

Goddess... _yes, _I do.

I did not realise it, but for so long I have lived in places I feel just a _guest_:the months I spent on the first _Normandy _gave me companionship, a purpose... and a place I felt _welcome_. Illium... this hated ship... they are not places one can feel welcome. They are soulless, reminders of the years I was alone, without friends or support... I do not want to feel that way again.

'I do,' I whisper. There will be some things I can never get back, never have been part of, but to feel that comfort again...

'When we go back, it'll practically be a new ship,' her words sound less certain now, as if she is testing them herself. 'New crew members, a new mission... I probably won't even recognise it with all of the retrofits.'

'It will still be your ship, Faith.'

'No, no... I'm not worried about that,' she quickly clarifies, taking my free hand with hers, 'I was going to say, it'll be something of a fresh start, and... and it can be your... _our_ ship... our _home_... too. Erm, if you want. I know that was sort of the plan anyway, and you'll still have your places on Illium and I bet your family's got a huge house on Thessia, but I thought I'd-'

Smiling, I push myself up and place a finger over her charmingly babbling lips. 'Are you asking me to move in with you?'

Looking uncomfortable, but with glittering eyes, she shrugs helplessly. 'Erm... Yes?'

Moving in...with Faith... Why is she so uncomfortable asking? 'You _are _aware we have been planning this for weeks now?'

'I-I know!'She sounds _nervous_! 'But we've almost been... assuming it. I thought I'd make it, you know, _official_.'

My breath catches at the serious undertone to the awkwardly proposed statement. It has been implied ever since she returned from her assault on the Collectors that I would relocate the Shadow Broker operation on to the _Normandy_, but we have never truly spoken about it. The practical need is there, but there is something _deeper_ to the proposal, that I wish I had seen earlier... how could I have missed it? The _Normandy _is not just a transport for her, not just a machine of work and war. It is where she lives. Where her friends and those who have - more and more - become her _family_,live. It is her _home_... and she is offering to share it with me.

To give us somewhere we can call _ours. _

'I would love to move in with you, Faith.' I smile softly, and turn her parlance against her. 'Officially.'

The smile that brightens her face banishes the cold air of this cold ship, andfills that void I had not even noticed was there, so long had it been present, with a deep warmth and _belonging..._ that for the first time in _years_, I might have a place I can call home... and a wonderful woman to share it with.

* * *

Doctor Amanda Kenson hummed appreciatively. 'Asari, you said?'

Doctor Karin Chakwas nodded in agreement. 'Yes. Quite lovely, don't you agree?'

'My tastes are usually a little more pedestrian,' the Alliance operative replied, 'but I've never been one to shirk new things.'

'You won't be disappointed. The asari are wonderfully creative when it comes to pleasing alien tastes.'

'So I've heard. Though such things are usually frowned upon in the Alliance.'

'Oh, don't tell me you've never been curious!' Chakwas scoffed, 'I've treated enough soldiers to know... hell, I'm not even going to deny I've a sordid tale or two of my own. I'm sure you have an experience to share.'

Kenson smiled wistfully, but the expression did not touch her hard eyes. 'Well, there was one time I dabbled with krogan-'

'You didn't!' Chakwas overrode, face twisted in horror. 'I've heard that is _immensely _damaging to your insides!'

'Immensely is right,' Kenson said, drawing a hand to her stomach, 'I actually had to have minor surgery afterwards. But when a krogan Battlemaster challenges you to a drinking contest, refusal to participate is... _unwise._'

Chuckling, Karin swirled her glass of Serrice Ice Brandy and took another sip. 'I'm sure there's a tale to tell there.'

'Perhaps once I've had a few more glasses of this lovely vintage.' Kenson replied, leaning back into her chair in the sick bay, opposite the medic. 'Where did you get it?'

With a smile, Chakwas remembered Shepard awkwardly presenting the gift. The soldier was still not totally comfortable with such open gestures of affection to her crew, but made the effort more and more often these days. 'Commander Shepard found it for me. I don't know if she's a connoisseur, to have found such a quality bottle, or if she just got lucky, but I appreciate it either way.'

'Does she make a habit of giving alcohol to the person who might be performing surgery on her?' Kenson asked, sounding slightly incredulous.

Karin looked up and saw the hint of a ghost of a smile on Kenson's lips, a slight twinkle to her hazel eyes, and judged an old joke wouldn't fall flat. Many young soldiers were notoriously attached to their battle wounds. 'Only if I promise to leave a scar.'

The operative's naturally harsh expression vanished for a second with a fleeting smile that actually touched features beyond her lips, leaving Karin pleased with herself. Kenson was a hard, closed off person, much like the Commander herself, but also like Shepard there was clearly a rich personality beneath it, a personality Karin wanted to get to know.

'She seems an unusual woman,' Kenson mused, 'not what I was expecting from the stories.'

Doctor Chakwas raised an eyebrow in her direction. 'Were you expecting the Butcher of Torfan, or the Hero of the Citadel?'

'Well, I saw why the batarians fear her, at very least,' said Kenson, peaking Karin's interest before continuing, 'And she single handedly fought off more than thirty men to protect me. But perhaps I was expecting somebody a little more...'

'Bombastic?' Karin suggested with a smile.

Kenson nodded, smiling stiffly. 'I suppose. She has the spark of a leader, and determination like I've not seen for years, but not that... let's say _bravado_, one often associates with war heroes. Especially hot-shot commandos.'

'For all of her harshness, she's not a cold woman, and she's never felt her actions are worthy of boasting,' Chakwas said, thinking of what she knew of Shepard, 'which is worthy of praise in itself. I think you'll find working under her quite different from any assignment you've had previously.'

'Well...' Kenson took another sip of brandy, posture finally relaxing into something more natural, 'if she finds gifts like this for _all _of the crew, I think I could get used to it.'

* * *

Kelly frowned, and bit her tongue in concentration.

The work was nearly complete, but she would not be happy until it was _perfect. _

She was already bandaged up from more than one accident, but injury would not stop her.

This was for the crew... For the Normandy... For _Shepard. _

If she could not get this right, she did not deserve her place on board. She needed to focus, to make sure everything was perfect, so when it came to that crucial moment she could step up, and-

'What _are _you doing?'

With a startled squeak Kelly jerked her hand and sank the needle - _again _- into her finger, dropping the large mass of artificial flesh to the floor, still attached to the suture.

She looked up helplessly, and saw the wide-eyed, apologetic look on Specialist Traynor's face for disturbing her.

'Oh bugger, I'm so sorry Kelly! I couldn't see what you were doing, I thought-'

Kelly dropped the needle and waved Sam into silence, flashing the befuddled woman a reassuring smile. 'Don't worry Sam, you startled me is all... it's not the first time I've stabbed myself today.'

Sam instantly dropped into the seat beside Kelly in the mess, and took the redhead's wounded hand in both of hers. Sam's hands weren't as soft as Kelly was expecting; but after a seconds' consideration it made sense, considering the Comms Specialist was working quite happily in installing some of the equipment in the almost-complete war room, with blowtorches and metal and all manner of things designed to get in the way of good grooming.

The touch was gentle though, as the woman inspected the wound, and wiped away the bead of blood. 'It's not bad, and it looks like you've already got some medigel... do you want me to do it?'

Kelly nodded, smiling. 'Please. I think I'm done with medical equipment for the day.'

Sam picked up the small tube Kelly had already used more than once during her practice, and carefully applied a drop of the substance, instantly numbing the tiny wound, sterilising and sealing it. 'I'm really sorry, I didn't see you were holding a needle! What were you doing, anyway?'

Kelly wiggled her fingers in Sam's hand. 'I said don't worry! I've been training as Doctor Chakwas' assistant, and she's still not happy with my sutures. I was practicing. It all seems a bit... barbaric... but apparently you _can't _just slap medigel on a gaping wound, glue it up, and hope for the best.'

Kelly reached down and picked up the amorphous lump of synthetic flesh the medic had given her to practice on and dropped it back to the table. The training had been going quite well. Kelly was pleased with her progress on the theory side; drugs, diagnosis, knowing _what _to do in a given situation, but actually _doing _it was causing her slightly more trouble. But still, she had accepted the position, and would do it to the best of her ability.

'I... I thought you were Shepard's yeoman?' Sam replied, still holding Kelly's hand. The redhead decided not to pull away; Sam seemed comfortable enough, and her touch _was _nice.

'I am. But that's not a full time position, and on a ship like this we all need to pull our weight wherever we can. Doctor Chakwas can and will do most of the work, and all of the ground crew know how to treat battle wounds, but sometimes the Doctor needs an assistant, so here I am!'

Sam thought about that for a second, then nodded, absent mindedly letting go of Kelly's hand. 'What's it like? When she's here... Shepard, I mean?'

Immediately missing the comforting contact, but feeling amusement flow through her, Kelly remembered how she felt at her own first meeting with Shepard. Sam was certainly fascinated by the woman: an understandable reaction, given her fame and that aura Shepard seemed to carry with her, and Kelly had already deduced that the young Alliance woman had a bit of hero-worship, not unlike that she had held at first.

That Shepard had left almost as soon as she had dropped off the new crew members had, for Sam, only added to her mystique.

Kelly did hope Shepard returned soon though - the new crew members were professionals, accepting Tali's orders in helping with the upgrades without question, but it would be better for their integration if Shepard was present. The Spectre knew it too, but Kelly had seen the almost imperceptible flicker of pain across her face, as she had declared that she needed to go to Doctor T'Soni's ship to make their final preparations before moving the full war operation onto the _Normandy._ Kelly had seen the subtext: she knew that a few days of uncertainty were better than keeping an exhausted, upset and on edge Shepard away from what she needed.

Kelly caught Sam's chocolate eyes. 'It can get intense. You _want _to work hard when she's there, if nothing else because she can be a little... _scary_. But she's not unreasonable, and cares a lot for the crew. She'll push you to your limits, but never expect anything she wouldn't be happy to do herself.'

'It's all so exciting! I... I've never worked with soldiers before. Or an AI. Or aliens,' Sam said, smiling shyly, 'It's just been human scientists up to now. Miss... erm... Tali... is the first quarian I've met, and she's the most famous quarian in the _galaxy_. And Shepard said Detective Vakarian and Doctor T'Soni will be on the crew as well! I read _stories _about the _Normandy_, fighting Saren and the geth; I never imagined I would actually _be _here. I even saw that ridiculous film, did you see it?'

Kelly grinned, teasing, 'Which one? The one where they replaced Shepard with a man? Or the all-elcor, twenty-five hour long adaptation?'

'No, no! The one with the two leads from Vaen... ah...'

Kelly raised a brow. Sam was almost _too _easy. 'Uh huh?'

'You know... the one with... ah... that turian, who I think was in Fleet and Flotilla, playing Garrus Vakarian...' Sam looked away, blushing. Kelly knew the one she meant; with the human and asari lead actresses from Vaenia. Though the film never had them actually get together, it had far too many situations where they were forced to get mostly undressed as part of their escape plans to possibly take it seriously- not that this had stopped Kelly from re-watching it.

More than once.

The cult of celebrity that had erupted around Shepard after she saved the Citadel was frankly amazing and the Alliance was all too willing to exploit it to increase recruitment. Kelly suspected that _they _had sanctioned more than one of the movie productions out there... perhaps even hiring actresses from an erotic movie to play key roles in the version Sam was talking about.

Leaning back in the chair, Kelly smiled happily at Traynor. The pair had gravitated together naturally: neither were fighters like most of the others on board, and Sam's open, unjaded world view was endearing.

_That her accent is sexy as hell certainly doesn't hurt..._

Kelly might have been worried that the woman was a bit too naive, but she had seen the way Sam acted around Shepard on the shuttle from Arcturus, and as Shepard had given her the assignment to help set up the war room. The Comms Specialist was very eager to please but still professional, so the psychologist was not worried about Sam's efficiency being impaired... and decided a little more joking around was in order. 'Well, you'll meet the _real _Garrus Vakarian soon enough. But don't mention that you've seen the films, his head is big enough as it is.'

Sam shook her head. 'It's unreal. These people who _saved the Citadel_, working across the room from me... I only just _graduated _and now I'm here, with Commander bloody Shepard, and her alien crew...' Suddenly her eyes narrowed. 'Wait a second. Is _that _why you said something about if these...' Traynor slightly arched her back, pushing out her chest and gesturing towards her suddenly pronounced assets, 'were _blue _that I might have a shot?'

Seemingly independent of her mind, Kelly's eyes flicked downwards... twice... taking in the expanse of now-taut fabric encapsulating twin globes of what were certainly rich, coffee-brown... _Whoa girl. Down. Stop. Nope!_ Kelly bit the inside of her cheek before her mind descended further into the gutter, and dragged her thoughts back to Sam's words, simply smiling mysteriously at Sam's curious face. The _Normandy _was a small ship with a tiny crew, meaning there _were _no secrets. But on that one, Kelly would say no more. It was for Shepard to either divulge or let slip on her own.

* * *

Steve grunted, muscles aching in a most pleasant manner. It had been quite some time since he'd last done this.

James panted like an animal, a not entirely inappropriate reaction to what he was doing.

Gritting his teeth, Steve braced for the inevitable. He knew what he was letting himself in for, when he had agreed to this... but he had not expected James to be so _forceful _on his first time.

James pushed harder, taking another inch for himself. It was only a matter of time now.

Steve's resistance was failing, but he was determined to make Vega work for his prize. With one final surge of effort, he pushed back, surprising James.

'Whoa... didn't know you had it in you, Esteban!'

'More where that came from, Vega!'

But it was soon to be over, and both knew it. With a huge roar, Vega heaved forward and Steve finally felt himself give out, and with a moan his arm collapsed underneath the bigger man's, slamming into the crate they were using for their battle. After a few breathless pants, James launched himself to his feet, and threw his arms in the air in celebration. 'Woo! You ready for round two?'

Laughing, Steve held up his hands in submission. 'Give me a minute!'

James looked around the cargo bay, grinning widely. 'I can't believe we just did that in here. In the Alliance there'd be some uptight Major riding our asses.'

With a nod, smiling at the younger man's enthusiasm, Steve said, 'I hear Shepard's pretty relaxed about this kind of thing, as long as it doesn't impact our duties.'

'No worries there, you're too much of a workaholic to do it often, and I don't think anybody else'd take me on.'

Rolling his shoulders to work out the soreness, Steve stood up as well. 'She might join in Vega, you never know. Think you could take down a Spectre?'

'Hell yes! She looks tough, but we're talking biology here.' Vega pointedly flexed his muscles as he spoke. 'No room for fancy tactics or that kinda shit. She wouldn't stand a chance.'

With a knowing grin, Steve replied, 'So you'll challenge her?'

'Erm...' The cocksure expression vanished from the big guy's face. Steve wasn't especially surprised; Shepard was definitely smaller than Vega, but there was something _about _her that suggested she didn't lose very often.

He decided to let Vega's hesitation pass - for now at least. 'Well, if you _do _challenge her, let me know so I can _hide_.' He gestured around the huge, open area. 'You think you'll like it here?'

'Top of the line ship, awesome gear, more action than I can imagine and a CO who doesn't care if I wear a vest on duty? Hell yeah amigo! What 'bout you, you been poking around the transports yet?'

Steve looked over to the M-44 Hammerhead hanging from the ceiling with a smile. 'I had a quick look. The Kodiak's got some interesting modifications, and I haven't worked with a Hammerhead for a while. Shepard told me she gets some pretty heavy use out of the thing, so I'm going to see if I can get some extra armour plating for it.'

'Well, I think I'm gonna set up my bunk down here, so if you need any heavy lifting done you only gotta shout,' said Vega, grinning at Steve.

'You mean I'll be putting up with you 24/7?'

'You love it Esteban! So, you ready to go again yet?'

Steve wasn't usually one for competitions like this, but his muscles ached pleasantly, and he was enjoying bantering with the man. 'Sure. One more round then I'm back to work.'

Vega sat down, and slammed his elbow onto the table they had set up. 'You're looking at the arm wrestling champion of Arcturus, you think you've got it in you?'

Steve dropped into the opposite seat, and clasped Vega's hand. 'You're going down.'

* * *

Tali groaned, her body aching with the aftermath of a day's hard labour, as she sank onto her back in the small pile of spare robes she called her bed. She was in the hold beneath the engine room; the retrofit crews still operating, around the clock, above her. But nobody would disturb her down here unless it was an emergency, so she was left alone with her thoughts... and the space around her.

_Jack... _

The engineer could still see remnants of the volatile biotic's brief stay. Dents in the walls and ceiling, made during the explosive nightmares that terrified the engineers above as she cried out. Tali could see several small carvings in most of the walls and pipes; some images of violence, some words she did not recognise, some patterns of a dangerous, exciting beauty.

Recognising their value, Tali had asked the retrofit crew not to polish them away. She had not been there when Jack had died, but had heard from Garrus that it was brutal, the woman overloading her biotic implants to allow the others an easier path... and Shepard had executed her, to save her a slow, debilitating and painful death.

Her squads on both Freedom's Progress and Haestrom had been massacred, but the quarian could not imagine having to do what Shepard did. To look at an ally... a _friend_... and know that the only mercy she could afford them was to _kill _them...

Tali shuddered, and cast away the grim thoughts of Jack's death.

Her memories, her _life, _were what would be remembered. Despite a childhood Tali almost wept to imagine, Jack had chosen to sacrifice herself, push herself further than she knew she could go, so that the others could complete the mission. There were memories of pain in the carvings, but also laughter and companionship; Jack had become almost _sociable _by the time they had hit the relay, acknowledging Tali and the others when they happened to pass in the corridors, and there was that time she had actually played a _practical joke _on Ken, scaring him by hiding amongst the pipes like she did, and jumping down like a... _ugh_... spider, causing her and Gabby to laugh and laugh and laugh until her suit had let out a warning she was in danger of hyperventilating.

Smiling sadly at the memory, she ran a gloved finger over one of the grooves; something that looked like a cross between an inexpertly carved flower, and a blade. Perhaps it was meant to be both. Loss had become almost a fact of life to Tali, but after the disaster on Haestrom, Shepard had advised her that to keep going without losing herself, she had to _not _bury it away, but remember the _good _times, acknowledge what was accomplished... and drive herself, to do better in the future.

She felt an urge to get back up, get back to work, at the thought, so she could take pride that she had done all she could to prepare the _Normandy_... but her body screamed in protest. Legion, _thankfully, _had now restricted his objections to her tendency to overwork herself to simple visual cues in her helmet displays. The geth had been mostly quiet during the upgrades, which Tali counted a small mercy. When he was quiet, it was almost possible to forget he was there at all.

Almost possible to imagine that her suit was managed as it had been for years: by a complex VI.

But it wasn't. The signs were all there. She was wearing upgraded shield generators; the geth able to operate the immensely complicated programs needed to run them. Her omni tool was loaded with powerful battle programs Legion would manage during combat. She had been _sick _for months on end now; the geth still keeping his promise of bolstering her immune system to allow her to remove her mask safely - to the stage where she now vaguely wondered what it was like to be able to breathe through her nose, to _not _taste that disgusting... stuff... that had set up a permanent headquarters at the back of her throat.

She vaguely wondered if it was worth it. To live, constantly wondering and worrying about the AI she harboured, for the undeniable improvements it was making to her life. Soon, she would be able to wander the semi-sterile environment of her home bare-faced... an entirely alien concept.

She also knew that she would be the only member of her entire species able to do so - and coming from a culture that idealised a certain degree of conformity, the idea was both thrilling and terrifying.

Quarians wore suits. They hid their faces. It had begun as a statement, to mourn the loss of their homeworld, the _billions _the geth had murdered, but it quickly transformed into a core part of their culture and traditions. It would be easy enough to wear transparent face plates, but nobody did.

Living in a suit, on a ship, was as normal to quarians as having a home planet was to other species. Even if they never visited: the _knowledge _was there, that they had a place they could go, feel welcome, be amongst their people. A welcome Tali would never feel amongst the quarians again... but a welcome she had _earned _for herself here. She had _earned _her place on Shepard's squad. She had _earned _her position as head engineer. She had _earned _the respect of the aliens on the _Normandy_, and was honoured to call them her friends, her family.

She was not a _quarian _to them. Not a thief, a beggar, a _suit rat, _a gypsy. There was almost a nervous excitement to the thought. She was simply Tali, their friend - and soon the last remaining barrier between them would fall.

She feared abandoning her identity as a _quarian, _but in truth so much of it had already been lost. Her homeworld was lost. Her status amongst the flotilla was lost. Her ancestral hatred of the geth was lost.

But soon, she would be with her _true _family again. Garrus had called earlier, saying that in a few days they would have exhausted the use of the Broker's ship, and would be moving back to the _Normandy_. Shepard would be back. The team's rock... the human who forged the crew and drove them onwards, through and above whatever opposition or adversity they faced. Perhaps it was a lingering part of her old identity, but Tali always felt _reassured _when her Captain was on board.

She was also looking forward to having Liara back on the crew. She had formed a comfortable friendship with the asari on the SR1: both being young (relatively), alien to the others, and inexperienced in combat they had been drawn to each other. She had barely had time to catch up with Liara in the last few months with all that had been happening. The asari had clearly changed a _lot_, but so had she, and Tali hoped things would still be comfortable between them.

Garrus even mentioned that Kasumi might visit, though he did not know if the upbeat thief would stay. Tali liked the strange human, and the way she would always play silly jokes on the crew, but understood her reasons for leaving. Despite what have proven to be a solitary combat style - haunting the battlefield like a silent ghost - Kasumi's playful demeanour had led her to form easy friendships with nearly the entire crew, and the death of so many had affected her deeply.

But most of all, she wanted her turian back. She wanted to hear his drawling voice, managing to make light of everything from her preference for shotguns to the geth in her suit, _always _making her feel better. She wanted his formidable presence when she ordered the retrofit crews to do something, since they _still _raised a brow at having a quarian order them around. She wanted to have him there for the few hours she spent, when not sleeping or working, looking for something to do: he always had an idea for a nice way to relax.

Smiling softly, and ignoring the stupid geth telling her she needed to sleep via a flashing alert in the corner of her HUD, she thought to her future on this ship, with her friends, with Garrus, and what she could make of it once they had stopped the Reapers.

* * *

_**A/N: **Thank you to Jay8008 and Vector 71 for the ideas and editing :-)_

_No big action or drama today... but hopefully sets the scene for some of the friendships and perhaps more on board. Looking ahead, I still have a fair amount I plan to cover before the Reapers actually arrive - I want to take a closer look at the political turmoil that Shepard's actions cause in preparing for war, and Liara will have a personal issue to deal with that will ripple outwards to affect the asari war effort. The Reapers will arrive one day, I promise! But in avoiding the 6 month incarceration the game forces on us, there's a lot of time to fill... I hope I can keep it enjoyable!_

_Thank you all for reading and your continued feedback, it always makes my day to hear from you!_


	33. Chapter 33

'Spectre Shepard.' Councillor Tevos' musical voice rang throughout Liara's communications room, opening, as she always did, the dialogue with the Council.

Shepard nodded to each of the four holograms before her in turn. 'Councillors. It has been some time since we spoke directly.'

They looked tired. Anderson's hair was thinning, and even with his dark skin, Faith could see his eyes were shadowed with fatigue. Sparatus' posture was less rigid than normal. Valern's hood was uncharacteristically drawn, and his cranial horns were drooping. Tevos' usually glittering green eyes were dull, and her normally perfect dress was slightly creased.

Shepard was not about to make their lives any easier.

'Get to the point Shepard, we're busy.' Sparatus said with a turian scowl.

Faith nodded. 'The batarian relay?'

The Councillors glanced to each other, no clue to their thoughts in their postures. Anderson looked back first, face twisted in concern. Even he did not know what Faith was about to do. Eventually, Tevos spoke up again. 'Information about the incident is classified, though I'm sure you know that the batarian Hegemony is clamouring for a war with the Systems Alliance. It is a matter we are dealing with, and not something that concerns you. We have already assigned a pair of Spectres to investigate the incident, and assuage the batarian hostility.'

Shepard took a deep breath. Once she said this, there would be no turning back. Just ahead of her, out of sight of the camera capturing her image for the Councillors, Liara gave a silent nod, brilliant eyes both determined and worried.

They had discussed and debated this for _hours... _and everything about the meeting had been meticulously planned. She had donned her new armour rather than a more formal uniform and, wearing it, did not need to be armed. They had decided not to use cosmetics on Faith's scars - slightly faded now after their day of... _relaxing_, and the following day of tirelessly putting together what they had learned about the Reapers over the past few months- because they, as the armour, were parts of her. Faith would not pretend to be a practiced politician, nor a graceful diplomat. She was scars, skill, courage and bloodshed. It was _that _strength she needed now.

Taking advantage of her formidable appearance, Faith looked straight ahead at the camera, so each of the Councillors would see the image of her gazing at _them_. '_I_ destroyed the relay, acting on my authority as Spectre for the protection of the galaxy.'

As one, the Councillors gasped. Anderson's face creased into an angry scowl: he most likely knew the Alliance's involvement already, and Shepard had just dropped humanity into the deep end. Tevos' usually composed face twitched into shock for a second, before clearing again. Sparatus shook his head angrily. Valern instantly conjured his omni-tool and tapped it a single time: Faith hoped it was to cease any recording of the conversation. The quick-thinking salarian had probably already deduced that as Shepard was no longer Alliance, she was acting solely with her authority as a Spectre - meaning the Council was indirectly culpable, if the batarians ever found out.

'Explain.' Sparatus scowled, eyes narrowing.

Faith nodded, the gesture prompting Liara to send off her mission report to them.

'The Reapers were approaching the Bahak system, summoned by a beacon that I was unable to recover. They would be here, _now, _if I had not delayed them by destroying their beachhead. The report you just received contains more details, including proof that the batarians were secretly harbouring a relay that would allow their slavers to jump to any other system in the galaxy. If the Reapers took the system, nowhere would be safe.'

The Councillors lit up their omni-tools, accessing the secure data sent over the Spectre priority bands of the galactic communication system, scrambled and bounced across the galaxy so they could not trace Liara's ship.

A deep silence fell as the Councillors quickly scrolled through the information, punctuated occasionally by the audio from the helmet cam videos she had attached. Anderson groaned audibly: the ex-Commander had just implicated the Alliance as well. But Faith could not think of a suitable lie to explain how she had found and investigated the beacon, nor how and why she had organised the Project without informing the Council. The burdens of the action would be hers to bear, but the Alliance would not go unpunished.

Valern spoke first, after close to five minutes of silence in which Faith held a casual parade rest. 'We will leave the involvement of the Systems Alliance in this matter for a private meeting. But once again Shepard, you've given us nothing but vague assertions, disembodied voices and nonsense about "_feeling_" the Reapers. Did you see them? Did your ship take any long range scans?'

'Note that whilst the Alliance was partially responsible for setting up what happened, _I_ destroyed the relay, acting on no orders but my own judgement. The Alliance soldiers would never have activated the Project. As to your questions regarding the Reapers, no, I did not see them. They hadn't arrived yet. And my ship is undergoing retrofits, so I had to bribe my way onto a merchant vessel to get to the system, meaning I was in no position to take scans.' Shepard answered the questions with military precision, before the salarian's words triggered something she had not considered. She had asked Liara to disable Aratoht's defence grid. If it hadn't been done, they might have picked up some sign of the Reapers. That data could have been stolen from the batarians.

Faith had to resist scowling.

_We didn't know they were so close. We __**couldn't **__have..._

Her heart began to pound faster. It was another mistake to add to the mountain she had already made.

_We couldn't have known!_

Quashing the doubts, she fixed the camera with a steely again. 'I'm afraid you'll have to trust me on the rest. I hope my word as a Spectre is enough. But you've already found enough evidence on the Collector Base of the Reapers' existence, correct?'

The group nodded slowly, faces blank. Shepard continued. 'So it's time to stop these games. We're looking at _months _until the Reapers invade. I won't let the destruction of Bahak be for nothing.'

'Shepard...' Tevos began, the asari's usual grace absent behind an emotionless mask, 'just because we accepted that the Collectors were abducting humans with the intent to build a creature similar to Sovereign, it does not mean your warnings of an imminent, full scale galactic invasion are to be believed without proof, and it _certainly _does not mean we will accept your destroying a relay, in _batarian _space, without question. Spectre authority does not give you the right to act without answering for your deeds.'

Shepard had expected this, but she still resisted shifting on the spot. 'You made me a Spectre on the understanding that I could, and _would_, do what it took to protect this Council and the space it controls. If I had not destroyed the relay, as we speak the fleets of the galaxy would be scrambling to defend against a galactic invasion we are _not _ready for.'

'So you say, Shepard, but the truth is you have no _proof_,' said Sparatus, voice angry, 'and that you took such an enormous action without Council approval does not speak well of your judgement... and this is not the _first _time it has been questioned.'

Faith allowed the angry frown that she had been withholding to touch her face.

She just wanted them to _listen, _to... to stop _doubting _her!

_What more do they want from me? I give them more evidence... and now they're attacking __**me **__instead?!_

Her voice remained calm, softly emphasising the importance of what she did. 'I did not have _time, _Councillor. I had to act.'

Anderson slowly shook his head. 'You _know _I believe you, Shepard. But it's never that simple. You just killed hundreds of thousands of batarians. For what? What do you want us to do, without solid proof? Our power is limited. It is the militaries you need to convince, not just us.'

'I want you to prepare for the Reapers!' Shepard pleaded, voice cracking with frustration. 'What more will it take? Another attack on the Citadel? It was too late then, and _one _Reaper nearly wiped out you and your fleet! I had to commit _treason _to save your lives last time, and I've just wiped out an entire _system _to save you this time! What will it take for you to believe me? There are hundreds of Reapers coming. _Thousands_. Maybe more!'

Clenching her fists and trying with limited success to resist the urge to do the same to her eyes, her teeth, Faith took a deep breath, feeling her chest shudder. She would get nowhere by ranting at them. 'We need to stockpile supplies. Build fleets. Harden communications. Train militias. Share technology and resources! _Something, _rather than just talking in circles!'

The asari Councillor looked almost sympathetic as she answered. 'You ask much of us, Shepard, without evidence to back your assertions. The preparations themselves would not be as dangerous as telling billions of people that soon they will be at war.' Her soft words lit an angry fire inside of Faith, but before she could say anything the asari continued. 'Without any proof, your actions in the Bahak system may be considered a terrorist action. Your past association with Cerberus, not to mention your own personal history, simply add to this impression. Spectre or not, we _cannot _simply allow the deaths to be written off as an action for the good of the galaxy, as something you did to _save _us, without question.'

The asari clasped her hands behind her back. 'We will decide nothing today. Your actions have the potential to spark galactic war, Shepard, and should your warnings of the Reapers be true, if it is not handled correctly they will arrive to find us already tearing each other apart. We will consider the evidence you sent us and continue our efforts to placate the batarians. Given your... _history_... with the species, it would be best if you ceased involving yourself. We will contact you if we need anything more.'

Faith's heart sank, and she grit her teeth. Delay and obfuscate, as always. If Tevos and the others had their way, they would still be arguing when the Reapers arrived. Shepard would not allow it any more. 'Councillors, as soon as this call is over, I am going public with my knowledge of the Reapers. If you won't commit to action, I will appeal directly to the people of the galaxy, to the militaries that will be fighting.'

'You've been _public _for some time now, Shepard.' Sparatus said with a sneer.

It was true enough: she had never denied the Reapers, never hidden her opinions from the press. But... 'Not like this. I've prepared and gathered everything I've learned on the Reapers, including some of the stronger academic and scientific theories and papers that have been published over the last few years. I've got ship specs and notes on their technology. I've got warnings on indoctrination, and the truth of what eventually happened to the Protheans, in their becoming the Collectors. Everything I've been sending to you, in a format civilians can understand. The people of the galaxy deserve to see it, and I've got the means to make it happen. When the Reapers arrive, _everybody _needs to be prepared.'

Faith ducked her head, then looked up again, eyes flashing with conviction. 'This will work better with your support.'

'Dammit Shepard, we need more time!' Anderson exclaimed, gesturing angrily.

'We don't _have _more time!' Faith snapped in return, both angry and understanding of Anderson's reaction. She sure as hell wouldn't want to deal with the mess she was about to dump on them, but it was _their _job to protect the people of the galaxy, not just hers. Shepard took a breath, calming herself, before continuing. 'I know you probably won't throw yourselves behind this one hundred percent. And I know _most _people will probably just pass me off as insane, like they already do. But _please, _help me. If you can't openly back me, at least put pressure on militaries to prepare. Suggest there might be something to my claims. It's _your _job to guide and protect the galaxy, if there's even the _smallest _chance I'm right, can you afford to do nothing?'

The Councillors again looked to each other, before their images froze. They were debating in private. The seconds passed with an agonising slowness, causing Faith to grind her teeth, to clench her gauntleted fists. What would happen if they decided her actions in Bahak went too far? She... she could not honestly say she did not deserve whatever reprisal they cast at her. Even though she had delayed the Reapers - even though she knew she had _no _other choice - ever since opening up about it with Liara, the action had been haunting her. What if the Council did as they did to Saren, and cast her out?

Could she honestly prepare the galaxy for war, when she was a wanted terrorist? Would she turn herself in then, for whatever judgement they cast, to avoid sabotaging the galaxy's chance against the Reapers? Or... could she go on the offensive? Between Liara and Cerberus, she had the resources, knowledge and the power to perhaps even depose the current Council and shake up politics enough to place agents sympathetic to her views in their place... but even considering the idea made her sick to the stomach. She would _not _reduce herself to that.

_Or would I?_

She had to bite down the worries before they spiralled out of control. She would find out soon enough.

Behind their images, the Liara was wringing her hands nervously: as far as she had grown from the shy archaeologist into the formidable information broker - and though she would never let such nervousness touch her if _she _were the one speaking, instead burying herself in a businesslike attitude - the asari was still uncomfortable in dealing directly with people. Liara preferred to manipulate from the shadows, work in information and details, rather than personalities... and even watching others clash like this made her uncomfortable. Faith had to resist the urge to walk over and comfort her, instead shooting Liara a tight smile and confident nod, which seemed to embolden the asari, as she straightened her back, lowered her hands and replied with a shaky smile of her own.

Before Faith could do anything more, the figures began moving again. Sparatus looked angry, at least as far as a turian's mood _could _touch his facial expressions. As did Anderson.

Faith's frown deepened as she read the groups' overwhelming reaction to her announcement, casting her gaze across the faces of four of the most powerful people in the galaxy.

'Shepard.' Anderson began, at least _sounding _somewhat sympathetic. She deduced his anger was directed at the others, not solely her. 'Are you set on this path?'

Standing firmly in her beliefs, Faith nodded strongly in return. 'Yes. I'm going to do this, whatever you say. I won't let the galaxy linger in ignorance any longer.'

The Councillors glanced to each other. Finally, Tevos spoke. 'We cannot endorse this. We will not make any formal decision regarding your actions in Bahak until all of the evidence has been considered, but we will not back any rash action regarding the Reapers on your part. All we can do is urge you to reconsider, and appreciate the upheaval you might cause.'

Faith nodded again, slower this time. 'I've been considering it for months, Councillor, hoping _you _would make some progress. But in that time I've only seen conversations that go in circles, a slow creep of data that you try to wish away, and a distinct _lack _of meaningful action. I will not wait any longer. I am forcing the issue.'

'Then the consequences are on your head, Shepard,' spat the turian Councillor, jabbing an angry finger in her direction, 'we cannot, and _will _not, protect you from your own actions. This call is over.'

The figures faded away.

* * *

'She's gone _too _far this time! We should have known she wasn't, _humanity, _wasn't ready!' Sparatus still had not sat down, pacing angrily around the table at which the other three Councillors sat.

'She's telling us what we don't want to hear!' Anderson replied, voice exasperated. 'We all know it, don't we? That the Reapers are coming?'

Sparatus stopped his pacing, and leaned over the table towards Anderson. 'She's still not given us-'

'Cut the bull Sparatus, you can lie on the stage to keep people calm, but it's only us here. She's given us more and more evidence, and _more _than proven herself worthy of the Spectre title.' Anderson overrode, and Tevos nearly dropped her head into her hands in despair.

_Goddess... _The human and turian had been butting heads like this for weeks, but for all of their hard words, they _were _actually heading in the general direction Shepard wanted. Humanity had authorised building enough top-of-the-line dreadnaughts - outfitted with the newest Thanix technology, as well as experimental shielding and armour against that same type of weapon - that they would reach the limits imposed by the Treaty of Farixen when they were complete. The turians had responded by rotating huge portions of their fleet into dry dock to upgrade similarly, and her sources amongst the turian military told her that they had plans to authorise building of another _five _dreadnaughts, allowing humanity to build another three.

_As well as ourselves and the salarians._

Tevos looked over to Valern, who had been quiet so far. She was worried about the man. The days and weeks passed so quickly in political life, but she still had decades - _or longer if the Goddess wills it_ - to act as the voice of the asari. Valern did not have that luxury, and Tevos was concerned that the stress of the last few months were catching up to the ageing salarian. Despite, though, not taking part in these near daily arguments, Valern seemed to make up for it with the precise and thought out contributions when the Council discussed matters other than war.

And herself...

Councillor Tevos was torn. The influential matriarchs on Thessia had been in touch with her more and more often over the past years and - _Goddess, has it been so long?_

For the most of her career, the matriarchs, as the voice of the asari republics, had trusted her to act in their species' best interest on the galactic stage and were very light touch in their instructions. Tevos was not naive enough to believe she held the position _purely _on her own merit: she was a skilled negotiator, had a good network of contacts, and was willing enough to play to some of the galactic perceptions of asari to gain an advantage over aliens, who were so easily manipulated by a low-cut dress, suggestive glance, or vague promise of the paltry physical pleasure they placed such importance for all of that, Tevos knew that in truth she held her position because she did a good job ensuring asari interests were looked after and the matriarchs - and by extension the asari people - were pleased with her.

She had held her position for decades, now. But over the last few years, the matriarchs had been more and more specific in their instructions to her words in how the asari present themselves. In this instance with Shepard, she had been tasked to keep passions calm and not commit to a decision either way... but she knew soon a more firm choice would need to be made. It was frustrating, and every day she itched to set her people on the path Shepard's admittedly stronger evidence illuminated, but every day she nevertheless waited for guidance from Thessia.

So instead of dropping her head into her hands, she kept her perfect posture, and made a calming gesture. 'Enough. Shepard's status is not the issue here.'

'And why isn't it?' Sparatus said furiously. 'Do you remember why we made her a Spectre in the first place? Saren Arterius destroyed a human colony, and Shepard caught him ranting about _Reapers _more than once_. _This situation doesn't seem too different to me.'

'Saren destroyed that colony to try and bring the Reapers _back_! Shepard did it to stop them!' Anderson stood up too, voice rising.

Tevos was about to raise her own voice to try and calm the passions of the angry pair, when Valern - who had been silent until now - spoke up. 'Should have paid more attention to what Saren was saying, three years ago. Regardless of his crimes, he was one of our Spectres. As is Shepard. We chose them for their strength, intelligence, judgement. Dismissing words and motivations of both,' he turned to look at Tevos, 'and one of your own matriarchs, no matter how unlikely their words were, was foolish. Shepard is right. We're trying to avoid seeing what has been presented to us.'

Anderson immediately sat down, turning excitedly to Valern. 'Are you saying you're ready to put your vote with Shepard?'

The salarian shook his head. 'No. Simply saying we stop this pointless arguing, stop looking at the evidence with the intent of dismissing it. Need to be more open minded. Salarian governments and scientists have been analysing data Shepard sent us, samples from Collector base. The technology is beyond anything we've developed, we _all _know that. What if she's right?'

Sparatus sat down with a sigh. 'And what if she's not? It's _my _government, my species, who will be leading the militarisation of the galaxy. My government who'll be tasked with keeping the peace as we arm up, my responsibility if it turns out the human is wrong!'

'Can we afford that kind of doubt, for "what ifs"?' Anderson replied, temper cooling almost as quickly as Sparatus'.

Tevos nearly shook her head at the sudden shift. The emotions of these short-lived species seemed to come and go so fleetingly, as if they sensed their own imminent demise and hurried for it. The asari, as always, had to be the voice of calm reason. 'Anderson, you know that whilst Shepard has given us much, nowhere is there undeniable proof of an invasion on the scale she warns us of. Hastiness in this matter will cause only hardship.' She turned her head. 'Sparatus... you are correct that if we go ahead as she wishes, your species will be the hardest pressed, financially and otherwise. But the turians have never flinched in their duty, and if war _is _coming, you will not be fighting alone. We will not ask anything we cannot give ourselves.'

Tevos wished her words were purely conciliatory, but she also appreciated that though the human's words and actions were almost painfully blunt, Shepard's timing with this ultimatum was surprisingly subtle. If they spent the next few months trying, again, to bury Shepard's warnings and discredit her, the authority of the Council would be shot if the Reapers _did _arrive. Her, and the others', careers - not to mention, their lives - would be over. The Council had accumulated just enough evidence that they could no longer dismiss Shepard, and the human knew it.

Glancing around the table, Tevos was glad the passions had calmed, and continued. 'Councillor Valern is correct. This is an issue we should not have deflected, when Spectre Arterius, Matriarch Benezia and later Spectre Shepard all accepted the Reapers as truth. Regardless of their crimes, none of these three were fools, not to mention they _all _acted, or believed they were acting, not out of self-interest but for the good of the galaxy.'

The matriarchs would probably be upset she said such a thing openly, and had finally given a declaration that was more than simply a delaying action, but her vacillation had to be becoming suspicious to the other Councillors. Her next words were carefully designed to ensure she was not committing herself either way, but _sounded _like she was, until the matriarchs gave instruction as to what the asari's next course of action would be. 'We would do well to heed what _they _believe as truth, and perhaps should have done so earlier. But we cannot linger on whatever decisions we may have made in the past. I recommend-'

Before she could finish, her omni-tool let out a loud beep. As did the omni-tools of all of her colleagues. In private meetings such as this, only the Councillors' personal assistants would be allowed to interrupt them, and they would only do so for important emergencies.

The four shared a glance. Was this Shepard's gambit? So soon?

Tevos tapped her tool, and her assistant's attractive face, decorated with pleasing red tattoos, filled the small projected scene, creased with worry. 'Councillor, you need to see something, it is _all _over the extranet, the news, _everything._'

Tevos nodded, seeing the others in the room having the same conversation. 'Patch it through to the display in here.'

As the large visual screen lit up, and all four Councillors held their breath.

After a second that lasted a lifetime, a _very _familiar sight filled the screen. Sovereign. Crushing the Citadel fleet, blasting ships away with unimaginable power, even ploughing straight _through _a turian cruiser, the dreadnaught completely undamaged as the turian ship exploded over its hull. The footage was taken from one of the many satellites constantly in orbit of the Citadel. The destruction it caused was absolutely astounding: she had seen this before, of course, but not for a long time...

_Goddess... seeing it again... _

How could they have so readily _dismissed _the attack? She and the others were barely evacuated in time - her memories were a blur of C-Sec agents almost bodily dragging her to an emergency shuttle, and even then only Shepard's words had the Alliance sacrifice their own fleet to save them. Being close to death was a fact of life for a Citadel Councillor, but it was rarely so physically _obvious_... the force of the assault was terrifying.

Was Shepard right? Valern as well? Were they simply trying to bury the truth from themselves, because they were scared?

The damage that ship had done was _incredible. _

Shepard's voice, hard and confident, rang over the video. 'Three years ago, the seat of galactic government was almost destroyed. This ship, _Sovereign, _led a geth fleet...'

In silence, the Citadel Council watched as Commander Shepard unravelled the greatest lie the Council had ever told.

* * *

'An... _interesting_... ploy, Shepard.'

The Illusive Man sat back in his chair, and Faith could see a screen to his side still playing through some of the information she had distributed. Liara was at her station in the main office area of the Broker's ship, managing the distribution of the data packet: it had gone out across high priority channels to governments and news organisations almost instantly, but they had not wanted to block anybody else's communications, so were slowly managing the method it was sent out to the _people _of the galaxy. The asari was also keeping an eye on the reaction to the data, ready to inform Shepard if anything unexpected happened. The Illusive Man had called _her, _which was surprising: Cerberus had been in sporadic contact over the past few months, mainly giving updates on their investigation of Reaper tech, and she was usually the one to call them, speaking to a nameless operator.

They had made limited progress in understanding the "huskification" process: enough, at least, to understand the horrors involved. Liara was keeping a _very _close eye on the experiments Cerberus were conducting through her moles in the organisation; they were currently using only cloned organic flesh, not actual people, and extensive animal testing. It was still distasteful, but better than the alternative - they would _not _accept human, or sapient alien, testing.

Indoctrination was another target of their investigations, but from what Faith understood Cerberus had ceased using live Reaper tech - such as that recovered from the derelict Reaper - for the experiments, given the dangers, and were instead following the path Saren had taken in using data from the Thorian, and that recovered from Virmire.

Faith nodded, leaning back on one still armoured foot. The new, heavy armour Liara had given her was her uniform whenever on a call now - she was preparing for war, and others needed to see it. 'I was sick of waiting around for them to do something.'

The head of Cerberus shook his pixellated head. 'The move was rash, Shepard. People might know about the Reapers now, but to what end? To say nothing of the political blowback you're going to encounter.'

'I don't care what happens to me. The Council can't bury this any more, no matter how hard they try, and the more they try to discredit me, the weaker their own position becomes when the Reapers arrive. I know that, you know that, and _they _know that. I expect that they'll hedge for a while, which will hopefully give us time to find something bigger to use to convince them and the militaries.'

Taking a deep breath and trying to resist scowling at the man before her, Faith tried to push aside the sick feeling that welled within her whenever she conversed with the head of the dangerous organisation. Dealing with Cerberus still did not sit well with her, and she could not shake the feeling the Illusive Man knew more than he let on. But Cerberus were _still _the best allies she had in that they accepted the Reapers and were actively investigating and preparing for them. Thinking about what she hoped to accomplish, the advice she had seeded into the information she had published, Faith continued. 'But with any luck we'll have more people of _all _species signing up to their militaries, requesting assistance in setting up militias in the colonies, and even just getting supplies in for themselves and their families. It's not going to stop the Reapers, but it's a _start._'

'Your optimism is unrealistic, Shepard, but as you say the action is done. We have high-level agents in the Alliance who can help ensure you are not discredited _there, _but I can't promise anything in the alien militaries.' He shook his head again. 'I'd have advised caution - your implicit trust in the goodwill of aliens is naive at best. The specialists you work with are not representative of their entire species, and _certainly _not their militaries. They will see this as humanity rattling its sabre, and take action accordingly.'

Feeling a deep throbbing in her temple, Faith wished she could simply discount his warning as xenophobic nonsense, but she was not as naive as he imagined. The Illusive Man was _right_: humanity did not have a monopoly on xenophobia, and the militaries were usually - by necessity - the worst. 'I gave the information to _everybody _so they wouldn't think that. If it gets them building ships, a few months of tension is better than being unprepared.'

The Illusive Man stayed silent for a moment, resting casually in his chair, looking into his drink. Faith could see the supernova behind him, still raging endlessly, illuminating whatever base he lived on, casting shadows across the camera lens. Eventually, he spoke coldly. 'And if somebody kicks the hornet's nest before they arrive? If the batarians drag everybody into conflict? We can't afford a war.'

Something about his tone chilled Faith. 'I'm guessing you have some ideas on that.'

The Illusive Man nodded again. 'The main peacekeeping force, where humanity is primarily based in the galaxy at least, is the Council. We need to make sure they are listening to you, following humanity, not indulging anybody who wants to wage war on us.'

Faith scowled. 'I don't want to be threatening or blackmailing the Council. Or whatever other plan you might have. They'll come around.'

'Not them directly. Unlike you Cerberus does _not _use brute force tactics. We lean on their advisers. Use economic pressure. Cajole them through-'

Faith swiped an angry hand before her. 'No. We are going into this war _together, _with the other species _willingly _alongside us. The last thing we need is somebody finding out _Cerberus _is manipulating the Council's actions. We need you to bolster humanity's position, not drag the others down.'

The silence dragged out, each glaring at the other.

_Is this worth it? It would be so __**easy **__to have Liara find them, and wipe Cerberus out for good..._

_Everything _The Illusive Man said and did had her on edge: the man was a viper, whose vision of humanity's greatness was skewed with anti-alien sentiments, and thoughts that their race should lead based on some assumption of superiority, rather than be part of something greater. Humanity could, and _should, _stand tall on its own merits, just as the other species did. She knew much of Cerberus' record. They did some _horrible_ things; the experiments on Jack on the other children at Pragia amongst the worst. But the Illusive Man _had _ordered Pragia shut down when he heard of the brutality there... showing Cerberus was _not _some cold, demonic organisation, and _did _have levels they would not stoop to.

They stood up for humanity in ways the Alliance would not: bolstering and protecting colonies in the Terminus. Research - _usually _with clean experiments - that had extended human life expectancy and medical advances. The other species all had their equivalents: the governments and militaries were expected to play nice, but underneath that, they all had groups that looked out for their own species' best interests.

If she could just take the best of Cerberus, she would... but for now she would take it all and try to assuage the worst.

Eventually, the man drew out a cigarette and lit it, drawing in deeply. 'I didn't bring you back just for us to fight, Shepard. Whether we like each other or not, we need each other. Your move might prompt Council action, but I think you're wrong on this. If I see any hint of them turning against you, I won't hesitate to act.'

It was about the most she could ask for. At least he wasn't going to act pre-emptively... if he wasn't lying. She would have to ask Liara to increase her surveillance of Cerberus activities. 'And if I think you're going too far, I won't hesitate to stop you.'

A flicker of annoyance passed across his face, before it cleared. 'I'm glad we understand each other. I'll be keeping a close eye on any developments.'

She nodded, just as he cut the call.

Faith's shoulders slumped, and she was about to begin shedding her armour when she heard soft footsteps enter the room. Shepard turned to see Liara, wide eyes full of worry, standing awkwardly in the doorway. Faith crossed to the asari and, for the first time that day cursing the armour she showed the world, took Liara's hand as delicately as she could. 'That was... not as positive as I hoped,' she said, pre-empting Liara's question. 'He was talking about "cajoling" the Council. I hate to think what that means.'

Liara looked thoughtful for a moment, then nodded. 'That... that is something I admit to have considered myself. All of this is so _uncertain, _and I know there is enough here I could use to help... _persuade _them, or-'

Faith quickly shook her head. 'I won't say I haven't considered it, but I don't want to do it that way, Liara. Maybe... when there's no other option. But I don't want us to be blackmailing the most powerful people in the galaxy when there's a chance they could come around on their own.'

Liara instantly ducked her head, looking contrite. 'O-of course. Goddess, with all of this... power... knowledge... it is easy to forget...'

Faith gently raised Liara's chin with her other hand, as softly as she could in heavy armour. 'I know what you mean. It's easy to lose perspective, when it's just us, out here... but I don't want the Council to have any reason to start actively working against us. They've got one hell of a job on their hands as it is, the last thing we want is to push them too far.'

Faith suddenly shook her head, self-deprecating smile working across her face. 'Not that it wouldn't be satisfying for them to actually _do _what they should be doing for once. But it has to be done right, -_ish _at least, and we're the ones to do it.'

'It...' Liara's gaze flickered away, until she finally re-captured Faith's dark eyes. 'It scares me, sometimes. During those years I spent alone on Illium, I did some... _terrible_ things.'

Liara had told her about them, slowly, hesitantly, as they lived worked together over the previous months. The asari felt such guilt about some of what she had done, but Faith was always supporting, always accepting. Liara had been working to prepare for the Reapers, in a way she herself could never do or understand: she was a soldier, she didn't have Liara's incredible temperament and intelligence and gift for the subtle manoeuvring of knowledge and power.

'And that was just with what I had accumulated myself! Small things, that could at most scandalise governments, or... or cause death, to individuals, if it found its way into the wrong hands.' The asari swallowed thickly, keeping Faith's eyes, worried voice tearing at the human's heart. 'Here, I could start wars, shatter planets' economies, change the very course of the galaxy! I have only been doing this for two years, Faith, and I am only one hundred and nine years old! And... and I just presented _blackmailing _the Citadel Council as a viable course of action!'

Faith, frustrated by the cold, heavy gauntlets enclosing her hands, quickly unsnapped the clasps of the right one, and shook it off, letting it clatter to the floor. She carefully took Liara's hand again, knowing how her physical touches reassured the asari. 'If it was _anybody _other than you, Liara, the Shadow Broker would be no more. I'd have crashed this ship into the planet and let the galaxy find out its secrets on its own.'

Liara took a small step away, but did not release their intertwined hands. 'You have such trust in me, Faith.'

'Just as you do in me, Liara.' Faith replied, squeezing Liara's hand. 'Nobody else could do this. You're the most intelligent and _best _person I know.'

'B-but, the Council...' Liara trailed off, looking back at Faith, beautiful face twisted in concern.

_I hate seeing her like this..._

For all Faith fought for these days, for all that she and Liara, and their friends, had to do... seeing the effect on Liara was heartwrenching. As proficient as she was in this job, as deep as she had to bury herself in layers of cold calculations for her work, Liara was a _good_ person with a gentle side the hardness of her life had yet to stamp out, and every day spent out in deep space, on this horrible lonely ship, saw another worried crease appear on her face, another degree of sadness added to her eyes. Faith wished she could say truthfully to Liara that it would all be ok, that they would pull through, just to lift that burden from her shoulders, see her smile... but neither of them were so naive as to think it was that simple.

It was all Shepard could do to support and accept Liara, and add whatever happiness she could to the asari's life, as Liara did for her.

Faith raised her bare hand and softly caressed Liara's cheek, feeling the cool, lightly pebbled skin give to her gentle pressure. 'You weren't suggesting that for _any _reason other than the protection of the galaxy. Don't think you're like Cerberus or anybody else who would abuse this.'

Faith looked around the cold video room. She felt drained from her work, and the armour was heavy on her back. They were done with work for the day... and they were done with this ship. Perhaps getting off of it would help; amongst the friendlier environment of the _Normandy_, with _their _room, with Joker's ever present sarcasm, with Kelly's almost _annoying _cheerfulness, with the new faces she was looking forward to properly welcoming, and all of the other residents and luxuries of her - _their _- home, the work would seem less cold and heartless.

Or perhaps that was just wishful thinking. But imagining, _hoping_, was nice, and gave Faith the strength she knew Liara needed now.

Faith took a short breath, and delicately kissed Liara on the forehead. 'Neither of us could _ever _properly prepare for what we have to do now. I...' Faith shook her head, 'I'm terrified, Liara. I have no idea if Cerberus is going to go off the rails, if the Council is going to arrest me, or of the galaxy at large is just going to laugh at me, _again. _But we have to... we _will_ do this. _Together._ I'm here for you.'

The small smile that pulled across Liara's face lit up Faith's heart. 'I... okay.' The asari took a deep breath, before looking around and gesturing softly. 'Please Faith, promise you will stop me from... _losing_... myself, in all of this. From losing sight of what we are doing, and fighting for.'

_That, _she could do. Faith softly pulled her lover a step closer, and spoke quietly, but with absolute belief. 'I promise, Liara. We're fighting for _us, _and neither of us will forget it.'

Liara closed her eyes and took a deep breath, as if drinking in Faith's words. When she opened them again, fixing Faith's dark eyes with sparkling cerulean, the small smile across her navy lips widened into something wonderful. 'Thank you.'

* * *

_**A/N: **Thank you Jay8008 and Vector 71 for all of the help._


	34. Chapter 34

I thought there would be... _more._

I knew in abstract that between Hagalaz's volatile atmosphere and our distant orbit, I would be unlikely to see anything beyond a fleck of light indistinguishable from any of the lightning flashes following the planet's terminator, but it is still... underwhelming.

As if so much power and knowledge being instantly vapourised should be more impressive.

As if the galaxy should somehow take notice that something so monumental just happened.

As if seeing the physical manifestation of a two year long campaign of cold decisions and ruthless calculus, _destroyed_, should spark something inside me greater than strange complacency.

The ship might have crashed into the frozen oceans of the planet, its remains to be boiled and refrozen until there is nothing but dust, but nothing has changed.

When we return to Illium, to the dry-docked _Normandy, _my work will be the same.

The same agents, saboteurs and worse will be called upon to do the same terrible deeds, to allow those sympathetic to our fight to gain greater power.

The same operations, much too often with a blood cost attached, will need to be authorised.

The same decisions will need to be made, every hour of every day.

I will hide in the same shadows. Manipulate the same events. Manoeuvre the same pawns.

Nothing has changed.

A warm hand works gently into mine, and the dark mantle lifts, just a little. The air smells like her. The scent used to leave me breathless.

It still does.

Leather, from the armour she wears.

Gunmetal, from the time she spends with her weapons.

The heady undertone of _human, _from the hours of physical exertion, honing herself into the perfect warrior.

I smile, and suddenly the speck of light that might or not be the explosion of my old ship becomes a lot more satisfying.

I was wrong. Only the work is the same. Everything else...

The hand holding mine squeezes softly.

The difference is small, but enough.

It has to be.

* * *

Faith Shepard was lost.

It was an unusual sensation.

She often did not know where she was going: whether she was standing before the galaxy map in the CIC of the _Normandy, _or on a ground mission in a labyrinthine building, but that was _different_. Then, she would stand up, speak confidently, and make everybody else think that her educated guesswork was actually part of a plan.

Then, she could _lead, _as she was trained and practiced in.

But this...

She looked around helplessly. She was not lost in a navigational sense, but rarely felt quite so _uncertain_.

Noise. Lights. Shops. Asari _everywhere. _She was on Illium, wandering the shopping district of Nos Astra. Garrus had returned to the _Normandy _with Kasumi - the thief still making no commitments about staying - and Liara was in her old office. The asari had effectively banished Faith for a few hours, insisting she had a few incredibly boring phone calls to make to properly tie up the loose ends of her old information business and to absorb the useful parts into the Shadow Broker's network.

Shepard had waited in Liara's office for the first few calls anyway, but the asari was not lying: the calls were _incredibly _boring - discussing new forwarding addresses, financial arrangements and business contracts that needed amending - and eventually Liara had suggested Faith wander the shops rather than simply pace her office.

Faith considered with a small smile that it was obviously an awkward attempt to tell her that her presence was frustrating.

As soon as Liara said the words Faith had an idea: she would buy her lover a gift.

Surely Illium would have _something_ suitable.

The soldier walked past another shop, face twisted in confusion at the alien objects displayed in the window. She had absolutely no idea what they were. Fiendishly complex looking devices that could have been anything from a piece of medical equipment to a decorative ornament, the labels handwritten in an asari alphabet providing no clues.

_Perhaps I should ask somebody for help._

A group of what appeared to be teenaged asari, linked at the arms, approached from the opposite direction looking at Faith and whispering to each other. The one in the middle giggled cheekily.

_Nope, keep walking!_

As she glanced into the window of the next shop, Faith's dark eyes widened in surprise, and she felt an insane urge to place herself between the window and the young asari so they could not see, despite another part of her brain telling her the asari might well be older than she was. What were quite obviously _sex toys _were proudly presented in a colourful display, graceful alien text scrolling on small screens alongside each piece. She knew, in some abstract context, that asari didn't hide sex in the way humans did, but it was still a little startling to see something like this out in the open, just like any other store.

Glancing around to make sure nobody was paying attention to her, Shepard swallowed thickly and inspected the display.

_Maybe... maybe Liara would like..._

Faith tilted her head, inspecting a device that she was fairly certain she could use to kill somebody in several interesting ways, pondering just how it was supposed to be used in the bedroom. She suddenly realised she had been staring for several minutes - still without a solution that satisfied her curiosity - when she noticed an asari in the shop, standing behind the counter, smile brightly and wave at her.

Faith stood bolt upright, blush creeping across her cheeks, and quickly hurried down the boulevard.

_I am __**not **__good at this._

Could she find something Prothean? Liara would probably already have read any book she might find, and those artefacts in her apartment were far more impressive than any she might find while wandering the tourist district of Illium.

She shook her head in frustration. Perhaps she should simply find a flower shop and be done with it.

_Do asari even like flowers?_

Illium, at least, was a fascinating planet. Shepard had visited several times as she hunted the Collectors, but she had always had an _objective _then, and had never had time to simply stop and appreciate the beautiful architecture, the amazing skyline, the way the asari moved about as if in a graceful, endless dance. It was a startling contrast to the noisy bustle of the trading floor, of the loud audio adverts blaring from every building, the shady and occasionally violent business deals Faith knew were going on behind every door.

It seemed unreal. She knew many of these people had probably seen her data release, but none of them seemed to... _care_... that a force bent on the destruction of organic life was just _months _away.

But then again, _she _knew about the Reapers. And _she _was strolling around, in civilian clothes, looking for a gift for her lover. There was a pang of guilt at the fact, a nervous tugging at the back of her mind, telling her she _should _be doing something.

A melodic and clear voice stood out from the noises of the crowd, and Shepard turned her head to track the source. An asari, dressed in elegant robes, was loudly preaching verses of the Doctrine of Athame to a group of asari bystanders. Some were listening with vague interest, whilst others were chatting idly to friends, or toying with their omni-tool as the preacher spoke.

Faith shook her head with a cynical smile working across her face.

_Maybe I should get up there alongside her. _

It would do about as much good as yet another day wasted negotiating with people who don't want to hear what she had to say, scouring ancient archives for any clues about the Reapers, or trying to provoke the knowledge she knew was sitting in her mind so she could transcribe it to something useful.

The contents of the next shop window cast away the melancholy thoughts, replacing them with a pleased anticipation. Bracelets, necklaces and a wide variety of other pieces of jewelry were displayed, and before she could second-guess herself the human took a breath and entered the store. The noise from outside was instantly hushed as the doors slid shut behind her, replaced by a soft, beautiful soundtrack ringing quietly throughout the shop.

Several asari and a turian were browsing the displays lined before her. The asari were chattering happily to each other and trying things on, while the turian looked about as awkward as she felt, stiffly shifting his gaze between the bracelets he was standing by and a picture projected above his omni-tool.

Not wanting to have to weave between other customers, Faith slowly wandered down a deserted aisle, past a large display of rings that failed to catch her attention, past what she could only assume were crest decorations, and eventually stopped at the back wall, looking at a display of beautiful tiaras similar to that Samara had worn, presented on faceless head models. She reached out and softly brushed a finger along the edge of a red one, that was almost identical to the Justicar's decoration.

She had always meant to ask about it, about more of the traditions of the Justicars, but after her encounter with Morinth, she had found her ability to be comfortable around Samara badly damaged; so similar were their appearances.

It was a terrible disservice to the Justicar, but the asari had never spoken a word of complaint, volunteering to accompany her on every mission after the attack.

Shepard would have liked to have built a deeper bond with the worldly asari who had seen and endured so much, but that opportunity - like so very many others - had passed forever.

Shepard focused on the piece, imagining the blank, vaguely head-shaped model with Samara's stoic and ageless features, not flinching at the memory of the near-identical Ardat-Yakshi. She would not insult Samara's memory that way.

'That's a popular choice.' A bright voice startled Faith from her reverie, and she turned to see an asari standing close by, in a uniform indicating she worked at the store. Shepard found it impossible, as she usually did, to place the asari's age. 'The design is based on-'

'A Justicar's,' Faith said quietly.

The store clerk's deep grey eyes widened slightly, before she smiled again. 'That's right! I didn't know many non-asari knew about Justicars.'

The human simply nodded and turned back to the piece, removing her finger. She would let Samara rest.

'Are... you here for yourself? I am afraid headdresses like these often cause species other than asari trouble. We have some non-functional ones a bit further down if you're interested.' The clerk gestured helpfully.

'Functional?' Faith prompted. She thought it was purely decorative.

'Oh... oh! Yes, I apologise, I assumed if you knew... excuse me. They contain technology that allows its wearer greater control over her biotics. The difference to the user is quite small, but the technology is highly sensitive and geared especially to asari brain patterns and muscle structure. It won't make a weak biotic strong, but it will help a strong biotic focus her powers, by helping reduce redundant muscle movement and so on. A human wearing it would get a mild headache and feel a loss of coordination, perhaps worse if they kept it on for long.'

Faith shook her head with a small smile.

_Trust me to find the one piece of jewelry that has battlefield applications. _

Nevertheless, the gift appealed to her: something like this would not just be beautiful, but practical as well. Shepard was sure Liara would like it. She smiled and said to the shopkeeper, 'I'm not shopping for myself. It's for an asari.'

'Oh, excellent! Would you like assistance?'

Faith was tempted to simply choose something herself, but quickly banished the notion. She was horribly out of her element: thinking back, the nearest she had ever been to shopping for jewelry was looking at the alien trinkets traders would occasionally bring to Mindoir. She had just learned more about asari jewelry in a few words from this shopkeeper than she had in thirty years of life until then. She nodded with a relieved smile. 'Please. I'd like to get her one of these.'

The asari's smile widened. 'My name is Selrana. I own the store. Do you mind if I ask a few questions about the person you're buying for? It will help me assist your choice.'

It was clear the asari did not recognise her, for which Faith was grateful: she had decided to keep _herself _as removed from the Reaper data release as possible, beyond what was published in the media in the first place. The information was not about _her, _it was about the continuation of life in the galaxy.

When wearing civilian clothes and a soft facial expression, her now awkwardly mid-length hair loose rather than tied up, Faith was well aware that not many people, especially non-humans, could match her face with the hard, determined grimace of _Commander Shepard_. 'I'm Jane. And go ahead, I'm a bit out of my element_._'

Selrana smiled pleasantly. 'Goddess' blessings upon you, Jane! So, this asari you are buying for... is she a friend, or lover?'

Faith let out a choked protest. 'Is that... _important?_'

The asari shrugged. 'Not really, but it's sweet!'

Shopping was going to be more difficult than she thought.

* * *

An hour later Faith left the store, feeling mentally exhausted, small bag in hand. Sel (she had insisted on Faith - _Jane _- shortening her name) had been absolutely eager to help, managing to steer Faith through the meanings and traditions of most of the pieces she had on display, letting loose a veritable barrage of questions helping narrow down the choice, from Liara's birth planet and age, all the way to asking Faith to point out Liara's skin tone on a chart, to help decide the right colour metal.

In the end though, Faith had made the choice. Inside a beautifully adorned box in the bag were a pair of symmetrical silver adornments of a simple design, though a close inspection showed a delicate pattern inscribed in both pieces with a blue-ish metal, which Selrana had explained was actually an ancient asari dialect, and the inscription told of Athame granting the asari the gift of biotics.

Faith smiled to herself, pleased that she had found something so perfect for Liara. The decorative jewelry in there had certainly been beautiful, but a practical gift seemed somehow more _right _to her... and what she had bought was both. She had also bought it with her own money, which felt important to her - a pretence, perhaps, that they lived something approaching a normal life. While Liara had given her access to several of the Shadow Broker's operation's accounts which would cover any expenses up to hiring a small army, Shepard, who had spent ten years as an officer in the Alliance without dependents or even a place of her own beyond the occasional short-let apartment, had a modest amount of money saved up in her own right. She had been somewhat surprised, when resurrected by Cerberus, to discover nobody had touched it. Her death had been so buried in layers of lies and deception by both the Alliance and Council that apparently her bank account had been forgotten.

How she would present it was another challenge, with a solution one she had already meticulously planned out. She would give it to Liara when they first retired to their shared room on the Normandy; a gift to celebrate their new home.

Illium's sun was setting, casting beautiful red lights across the now slightly less crowded shopping district. Although it was still busy, the mood of the crowd had changed: it was less urgent, the people walking slightly slower, the shouts slightly quieter.

Shepard had never enjoyed big cities. She had grown up in a small farm on a small colony on a vast, otherwise uninhabited world. After her military training, big cities represented only vicious urban warfare - lurking enemies, brutal traps, crumbling buildings, the inevitable corporate and government interests getting in the way of the mission objectives.

She preferred it quiet... preferred it when she did not subconsciously map out ambush points, blind corners, escape routes, environmental hazards she could either avoid or exploit, and judge whether every person passing through her vision was carrying a concealed weapon, or holding themselves with the bearing of a fighter.

It was as natural as breathing for her to do so, and yet it became exhausting, with constant thoughts of battle and war plaguing her when she should be _relaxing. _

Faith stopped, and moved to a wide balcony that looked over the huge cityscape of Illium. It was beautiful, just like the asari themselves... though she knew the beauty did not imply safety. The graceful architecture and carefully maintained infrastructure hid a seedy underbelly that rivalled Omega's. Only here, it was decorated with legal contracts, clean streets and smiles.

Her omni-tool, which was set to only alert her when she received a personal message, suddenly vibrated.

_Faith, _

_I am finished at the office, and making my way back to the apartment. If you bring me the __listed ingredients I can cook for you tonight._

_- Liara_

Faith smiled warmly at the thought of enjoying a night of Liara's hospitality, though the expression dropped a little as she saw a list of items she singularly failed to recognise any of.

After a few seconds the smile totally disappeared, replaced by another visage of uncertainty as Faith Shepard, N7 commando, first human Spectre, Hero of the Citadel and destroyer of the Collectors, looked around the shopping district and wondered just what an asari food store might look like.

* * *

The apartment appears more serene than I know its history dictates.

T'Soni Information Enterprise has now been completely incorporated into the Shadow Broker's network, and I admit to being more saddened than I expected to see the results of two years' work absorbed so coldly. The contacts I spent so long grooming are now listed alongside the hundreds I inherited from the Shadow Broker. The knowledge I accumulated has been added to the vast amount of raw data hosted on a dozen servers across the galaxy. The name I made for myself in certain circles on Illium are forgotten; my disappearance was as much an expected part of the information trade as any other stage in the business.

Two years' work, something I built myself... not gone, but _forgotten_. Indistinguishable now from anything else I control as the Shadow Broker.

_No matter._

Sentimentality leads to inefficiency, and with what is coming I cannot afford to impair myself with romantic ideals of what I _built _being more valuable than what I _took_.

The office's lease will expire in about a month, at which time the owner's bailiffs will discover the room deserted and immaculate, free of any trace of my work there.

The flat I was renting in another neighbourhood of Nos Astra but rarely visited - the one listed as my primary address - is much the same.

But there is history in this apartment. Nothing professional: I kept work in the office, something I found increasingly necessary for my sanity. This is where I would relax on the occasional few hours I granted myself before an all-too-brief rest, surrounded by objects of a life nearly forgotten. The Prothean relics mounted in the walls: a reminder of a passion I had so little time for. The ruined breastplate Faith was wearing when she... died, with the great gashes and burns which still cause my stomach to clench uncomfortably, would keep my focus on what was important, what I was working for. The picture of the Normandy by my bed, at which I would gaze, longingly, before sleep.

And as time went on...

The strange Prothean orb Faith secured on a mission, and gifted to me, still sits on the table in the centre of the living area. I cannot help but smile, heart lightening, as I channel a small amount of biotic energy into it, seeing it flare up in response.

The window shows no signs of the assassination attempt. I had a clean-up crew take care of the apartment after the upheaval caused by Spectre Vasir died down: I did not know if I would be returning, but I have enough personal items here that I did not want to leave it in the hands of the police or other Illium authorities.

Slowly, I climb the stairs, to the bed where Nyxeris... _assaulted_... me.

The fear still spikes through me, as I remember the night, her disgusting violation of the beautiful gift of the asari, waking, seeing her face, twisted in hatred before I shot her, here, in my bed...

_Goddess... There was __**so **__much blood..._

The bed is clean. The walls and floor are clean. There is no sign of what happened here, nothing other than what the memories I harbour.

And I will not allow her any power over me. She failed in life, and she will fail in death.

The door slides open, startling me back to the present.

'Hey, Liara, they didn't have any of the... erm... krissita? The shopkeeper said that this tres... _something... _would be a good substitute, I hope that's ok!'

Hearing her bustle below suddenly makes the apartment seem _alive, _banishing the melancholy memories, replacing them with those of the beautiful few days we spent tenderly recovering together, gently exploring the feelings both of us denied for much too long.

Leaning over the balcony, watching her dropping the supplies on the table, and seeing her free of the stress of our work pulls a content smile across my face. If this is domestic life... I believe I could grow to enjoy it. 'That is ok, Faith.'

Faith looks up with a somewhat shy smile, and a delicious blush touches her cheeks. 'I really hope so, because I'm going nowhere near an asari shop again unless you're with me. Do you want to know how many people asked me if I'm sleeping with an asari today?'

* * *

'Well... _shit._'

Matriarch Aethyta sighed as she replayed the video of the young maiden busying herself in her office, tenderly touching the human who was obviously her lover, and eventually sending the human away with a smile before sitting at the desk to make a few hours worth of phone calls.

Seeing Liara smile so openly, so freely, had lifted the matriarch's heart in a way not much managed to these days. Two years of watching her kid slip deeper into the miserable life of an information broker had dulled the taste of food, made alcohol less appealing, sex less, well, _sexy_.

Aethyta knew, in theory, that interfering then would have done more harm than good. Liara was growing up, and while most maidens took their time - a bit of dancing to learn about sex, aliens, and themselves, maybe some light merc or military work to introduce them to the violent side of the galaxy - Liara seemed to be getting the crash course. Dragged along by a Spectre to fight geth armies, then dumped into _this _life straight after. Aethyta's heart ached to see Liara lose her innocence like that, but to get involved... Liara would have ignored the advice of a stranger. Hell, she might have even suspected Aethyta was trying to lure her into a trap or something. Would she have been able to help by trying to move things behind the scenes, to make Liara's life easier? The girl was insanely smart - much smarter than she was - and would have noticed.

Or could she have revealed herself? _"Hey kiddo, I'm your father, sorry I wasn't around to see you grow up. Fancy a drink?" _She had made her promises to Nezzy all those years ago, and while they seemed a bit hollow with her old partner dead and their daughter miserable, Aethyta also knew that with Liara doing the work she was doing, just wandering up and introducing herself like that might have pushed Liara over the edge.

Not to mention the matriarchs on Thessia would have had either Liara or herself assassinated without a second thought if they thought Aethyta was doing anything other than monitor Liara. More than one of the supposed _wise _and _diplomatic _and _peaceful _matriarchs was just _aching _for any excuse to have the last of house T'Soni knocked off so they could bolster their own positions and fortunes, and she wouldn't be the one to give it to them.

The familiar resentment bubbled through Aethyta, but she quashed it with an ease that came through centuries of practice. She knew all of her excuses were cowardly_, _and the krogan in her _raged _at being so restrained in her actions, but while she would have been more than happy to piss off the stuck up asari on Thessia, she wouldn't do _anything _to risk Liara's life. She would monitor Liara, and send the matriarchs their damned reports, because the alternative was so much worse.

That didn't mean she had to like it. It didn't mean it stopped hurting like hell, every time she watched Liara slumped away from the office, exhausted. Every time she saw her kid drop her head into her hands after making a call Aethyta didn't _want _to know the content of. Every time Liara glanced at that photo she had hidden in the bottom drawer of her desk, eyes moistening, before her expression again shifted to that horrible coldness.

It also didn't mean she couldn't help, if the opportunity happened to present itself.

When that human who was at the centre of all these changes to Liara's life had come into her bar looking ready to headbutt the dancers, Aethyta had been ready to tear her a new one, but it turned out the _Butcher of Torfan _wasn't the cold hearted bitch the media made her out to be. Wasn't somebody _using _Liara like she had suspected. Seeing Liara like that had hurt her as much as it hurt Aethyta, and even if the human wasn't exactly the partner she would have chosen for her girl, it was clear they shared _something _and if Shepard was the only one who could get close to Liara, then she would roll with it. She'd kicked the human's ass in what she hoped was a helpful way, and if what she had just seen on her screens of Liara's bugged office was anything to go by, the pair both looked much happier for being in each others' company.

Aethyta liked to think she'd helped that, in her own way.

But still...

The matriarch shook her head, and looked again at the missives coming from her homeworld. Aethyta knew her muddying the reports of exactly what had happened to Liara after that mess with Vasir would only last so long before her "handlers" got suspicious.

And whatever Liara and Shepard had been up to in their absence had only made things worse. This thing about _Reapers _doing the circuits on the extranet had scared the shit out of them.

_Good. _

It was about time somebody planted a boot up their asses. They'd been acting strange for years now, wanting to know every little detail of what "Benezia's daughter" - they never referred to Liara by her name - was doing ever since she had helped stop the attack on the Citadel.

Aethyta had her suspicions: she wasn't privy to the details of the secret she knew the matriarchs harboured in the Temple of Athame - hell, she suspected she wasn't even supposed to know about it at all, but a girl got around - but she _did _know it had something to do with how the asari always seemed to be one step ahead of the other species. She would bet however many years of life she had left that it also had something to do with these rumours, and if _that _was true...

_Idiots. _

And now the matriarchs wanted to get their grubby blue hands on Liara. Whether it was her association with Shepard and this _Reaper _business, or because they had finally decided what to do about Nezzy's so-called treason, or because they were sick of Aethyta's unclear reports regarding Liara's whereabouts - or most likely some combination of the three - they wanted her. On Thessia. At an indeterminate "soon".

She reached out to the frozen image of Liara smiling like a love drunk idiot at her human as she pointed to the door of her office, but stopped herself before her fingers touched the cold, impersonal screen.

'Girl, you'd have been better staying wherever you ran off to.'

* * *

_**A/N: **Thank you all for reading! And thank you to Jay8008, Tayg and Vector 71 for helping this chapter along :-)_

_A quick advert for some of my other writing: Vector 71 and I have been working together to write an original story about a young asari maiden with a special gift... it is something of a black comedy, so if you enjoy my work, Vector's (check it out if you haven't!) or twisted humour, you can find it at:  
_

/s/9147327

_A curious statistical coincidence occurred between the publishing of my last chapter and this one: all 3 of my "canon" stories (A Memory Shared, A Connection Forged; Parallel Lives and this) all passed the 30,000 view mark! This is absolutely amazing and really cheered me up: to know so many people read and(hopefully!) enjoy my stories is wonderful and truly inspires me. Thank you to everybody who continues to read my work and give me feedback - I always love hearing from you!_

_Have a great weekend!_


	35. Chapter 35

'Garrus!'

The turian's eyes barely had time to adjust to the darker environment of the _Normandy's _airlockbefore he caught sight of a swift, dark blur flying towards him, and with a pleased flare of his mandibles, he braced for impact.

Sure enough, in less than a second he found himself propping up a happily babbling quarian, and softly drew his arms around her, careful not to jab her with his talons. Embracing like this was something turians certainly did _not _do to one another - their bodies just weren't designed for it - but he had to admit he liked having the soft alien pressed against him. After a few seconds, Tali looked up, silver eyes glittering beneath the tinted visor. 'I missed you!'

'You too, Tali,' he replied, ignoring a disapproving grunt from another turian hauling what looked like a piece of a shield generator through the airlock. The man was dressed in a mechanic's uniform with a heavy bandolier of tools strapped across his chest: one of the retrofit crew.

Garrus had to resist an instinctive, protective growl in return, knowing it was pointless and the turian's gesture was directed at _him. _Turians rarely joined with others outside of their own species, and those few who did, _usually _joined with asari. He knew there was a stigma attached to interspecies relationships, both because it was "pointless" in that it could never lead to children, and that most of his people considered aliens _unclean_, but frankly, he didn't give a shit. Squeezing Tali a little harder, he was rewarded with a soft, purring-type noise that had him deliciously itchy under the plates. 'It's good to be back,' he said quietly, not sure if it was directed at Tali, or himself.

Her head tilted up, and he saw the ghosted whites of her eyes narrow - and despite never having seen her face, he knew she'd broken into a wide smile. 'It's been so strange without you here, Garrus. Even with all the mechanics around, it's like the ship has been even quieter than usual.' She led him a little further into the ship, to the passageway between the bridge and the CIC. Once lined with terminals manned by Cerberus staff, it was now all clean, smooth walls that harboured EDI's new computers. He could hear Joker conversing with the AI just behind him, but Tali was still talking, pulling his attention.

'But we're nearly finished now. I can't _wait _to show you all that we've done; the new shield technology is _amazing_, you'll love the new gunsand the war room's nearly done and... and...'

As she trailed off, Tali's head dropped and her breaking voice set Garrus instantly on alert. 'What's wrong? Is it Legion?'

'No, no... he's been mostly quiet.' Something in her body language and voice told Garrus that wasn't quite the whole truth: Tali still struggled with the geth, but it was something she tried to deal with on her own, no matter how hard he tried to help... when she came to terms with it, one way or the other, it would be through her own efforts and realisations. 'It's just...'

Tali sighed and leaned in again, resting her helmet gently against his chest. 'I'm just glad you're back. I don't think I'm ready to run a whole ship yet Garrus, everybody keeps coming to me with things I have no idea how to help them with. In an engine room I know what to do, but when I need to deal with port authorities, or manage the workers... I kept feeling like _they _were telling _me _what to do, or that everything was going to fall apart, and it was just a matter of time before somebody realised I didn't know what I was doing.'

_I know that feeling..._

When he led his squad on Omega, for the first time he felt the _true _burden of leadership and responsibility. In his C-Sec days he had the responsibility of protecting civilians, but no direct subordinates... and the contrast was stark. He was expected to have an answer for everything, to know just what to do, when it felt like most of the time he was simply "pretending" to be a leader rather than fitting into it naturally like somebody like Shepard seemed to.

He pulled back from Tali slightly, and as reassuringly as he could manage, said, 'You've done a great job, Tali. I know some people make it look easy... but it never is. When I was on Omega, I was happy if I could get to the end of a day without anybody dying, or anything going _seriously_ wrong. Everything here's going really well, and that's everything you could want.'

'I...' She sighed, voice distorted by her suit, and shook her helmeted head. 'Ok. I know I was probably being silly... but I'm still glad you're back.'

'Me too.'

'Sooo...' Tali jumped and Garrus spun around at the amused voice, to see Kasumi leaning against the frame of the inner airlock port, arms folded across her chest. 'I've been waiting for an opportune moment to burst in here, but you two are making it _really _awkward.'

'Kasumi!' Tali's voice rang with a happy timbre as she rushed over to the thief and drew her into a hug as well. 'How long have you been there?'

'She was with me,' Garrus said, chastising himself for forgetting, 'I was going to say, but I got a bit... distracted.'

'Don't worry, I didn't spy! Erm, too much... I like what you've done with the place!'

'_Spirits_...'

'Are you staying?' Tali asked excitedly, now leading both Garrus and the thief deeper into the Normandy.

'No promises. But I had to drop something off on T'Soni's ship, and hung around for a while...' Kasumi shook her hooded head, strode two steps ahead of the pair, then stopped. 'Maybe. I'm not taking private jobs anymore, but I'm still a thief, not a soldier. If the war needs anything else stealing, I'll be the one to do it.'

The thief looked back, and Garrus could see her painted lips curl into a smile. 'And besides, if I stay here it looks like I'll have my "single-ness" thrown into sharp relief.'

Just ahead of them, a huge specimen of a human male hulked out of the elevator.

_Alliance colours... Shepard's new soldier?_

He looked around, then gestured at the group. 'Hey, Sparks, can you take a look at something for me?'

'Oh, hello...' Kasumi whispered with wickedness running through her voice, and suddenly the thief flickered, and disappeared into nothing.

* * *

'Are you... alright, Faith?'

She has been quiet as we approach the ship, our arms linked together, her face unreadable. Most of our supplies will be loaded from the shuttle we just arrived on, later, but for now we are unburdened, dressed in simple, formal, unmarked uniforms, walking slowly along the gangway running the length of the _Normandy _towards the airlock.

I thought she would be eager to see the inside... but this is a huge moment for her. Everything about her home will have changed, there will be new crew to manage, and we need to decide just how to move ourselves forward in preparing for war.

_What could be going through her mind? _

Suddenly she turns, and her face breaks into a soft smile. 'Sorry, yes, I was just thinking we'll need to re-paint the ship. The Cerberus colours are pretty sharp, but they aren't exactly good for our credibility. I can't fly Alliance colours anymore... maybe I could do the Spectre banner?'

The eager anticipation in her voice banishes my worries - she is _excited _about this!

'Possibly...' I tilt my head, thinking of what could be suitable. 'I have an alternative idea, if you wish to hear it.'

She looks towards me, attention pulled away from the ship, dark eyes drawing me in as we both stop walking at an unspoken command.

_I feel like I am the only thing in the galaxy when she looks at me..._

'Always. What are you thinking?'

I try to drag myself from the black hole of her gaze, with limited success. 'W-well, I am sure you know that you have something of a... _cult_... following?'

Her face twists. She is not comfortable with that kind of attention, but I know she is not so oblivious or petty to it as to deny it, or its potential usefulness. 'Mh-hm?'

'Much of the galaxy recognises you as the _Hero of the Citadel, _from those silly photoshoots we were forced to do after the attack, and your N7 armour is rather iconic. If you wish the Normandy to have the same effect, perhaps you could paint the ship a dark grey, and the wing with a red stripe?'

She nods slowly, then again with more conviction, and a smile. 'That's a good idea. I'll see if the retrofit company has a detailing team we can hire once the fittings are done.'

We resume the slow walk towards the airlock, and when we reach it Faith sighs sadly and takes my hand with her free arm, slowly and softly unlinking our arms but keeping hold of my hand.

_I suppose we could not stay joined like that forever, however tempting it might be._

A pang of emptiness runs through me at the broken contact, but the warmth of her hand stays, reassuring and welcome. 'You ready to see our new home?'

I take a deep breath, and smile. 'Yes. Are you ready to be in command of your ship again?'

She looks towards her ship, with a glimmer in her eye. She truly does love her ship, even with the pain I know it holds, even for the endless war and struggle it represents. It is her home... _our _home, now. 'I am. You'll have to start following my orders now, T'Soni.'

Amusement runs through her voice, so I bump her with my hip and lower my own to a husky murmur. 'And what is your first order, Commander?'

'I know you'll want to play with your new office... but I don't want you staying up all night. Report to the Commander's quarters at nineteen hundred. You're going to need your rest...'

* * *

'Garrus, cover my assault! Tali, hold the left! Kasumi, sniper on the ledge at two! Liara, with me!'

_Puta Madre!_

James Vega slammed his heavily armoured back into a wall, sucking in acrid air to his burning lungs. His ears rang with the sounds of battle, covered by the near-endless stream of clipped commands and shouted warnings as they fought their way forwards, and Vega had to _keep _reminding himself this was _just a simulation_.

The air heaved with feigned explosions, the sound of harmless gunfire was almost deafening - Shepard's barked orders projected straight into his ear through his helmet only just audible over the roar - and the choking smell of fake smoke and burning rubble was barely filtered by his helmet.

The Armax Arena provided an experience _well _beyond a simple battle simulation.

'Vega, clear that damned firing position!'

_Move it marine!_

Without hesitation, Vega launched himself over the low wall he was hiding behind, stumbling as a "shot" hit his shoulder, the feedback modules in his armour emulating the force of a real shot deflected by his shields. With a grimace he raised his rifle and returned a spray of roaring fire, causing the lightly glowing foes to duck down as he pressed forwards.

Shepard was a damned terror.

There was no other word for it.

He had heard the stories, of course, and like most thought they were at least a _little _exaggerated... but her squad was _tearing _through these foes, barely stopping to take cover and denying the enemies any chance to regroup.

'Vega, need backup?' Her sharp voice urged him on: he was tasked with ensuring the bastards dug in on her right were cleared out and she herself was nearly past them now. Having foes behind you was something no soldier could allow.

'I've got it! Nearly there!' he replied without thinking, pressing his back into the nearest wall.

_Damn... _the soldier had never fought like this before. Combat in the Alliance was usually practiced drills, deadly crossfire and steady advances, but this was something else entirely. Hackett had warned him that his skills would be tested... but he would not fail. Not Shepard, not the Alliance, not himself.

His practiced eye already told him there were too many in the firing position she wanted taking out for a blind frontal assault - size of the bunker, firepower pouring from it and much more considered in a split second - so he pulled out one of the grenades given to him by the arena tech guys.

'Get clear of the bunker!' He yelled into his radio.

A over-cheery, asian accent replied. 'Two secs... ok, do your thing big guy!'

'Ok...' He spun around, and - now close enough for the sensors built into his suit to do their work - the HUD that overlayed his vision with targeting data now displayed five potential hostiles - all taking cover behind the fortifications. He muttered verbal commands, and on cue they lit up with red outlines to confirm acquisition. The missile launcher built into his new armour would have cleared them out without any problems, but unfortunately they were only allowed to wear arena-issued gear.

_Adds to the challenge, _he thought with a wicked grimace.

He burst around the corner and tossed the grenade with a perfect pitch, calling as he did. 'Frag out!'

Before the explosive even landed, he'd bolted from cover and followed it - into a hail of gunfire. In rapid succession he took two rounds that shattered the integrity of his shields. An instant later a third took him in the thigh - and whatever the suit stabbed him with to inform him of the fact hurt like a _bitch _and made him stumble.

_No!_

He righted himself with an angry growl, and charged forwards, clenching his teeth against the pain, the stabbing sensation driving him on with a slight limp.

A second later a heavy thump shook the floor, the arena somehow judging just what the grenade would do, and with a scream of pain Vega leapt over the barricade nearest him. Only one of the vaguely humanoid-shaped holograms had been "killed" by the grenade, and the rest were all sprawled out on the floor. He stomped on the "head" of the nearest one, and gunned down another two as they struggled to raise their guns. He spun to where he knew the final hostile was-

For his heart to freeze as he saw it was already standing with a gun pointed at him. Before he could react, a heavy crack reverberated through his senses and the hologram shattered. A turian growl ringing with harmonics sounded on his radio. 'You owe me a beer, Vega.'

_Dammit, too close..._

But he could not stop, not now. He called out, 'Bunker clear! Took a shot but I'm fine!'

Shepard's response was instant. 'Keep going! Hostile reinforcements at three, Liara lock them down, Vega take them out! Garrus move forward and set up in the bunker Vega just cleared, Tali, some mech-shaped hostiles with the group straight ahead, see if you can hack them! Keep moving, people!'

* * *

_New record!_

_New record!_

The group occupying the viewing booth sat in stunned silence as the final wisps of biotic fire died down, as the sounds of gunfire and explosions finally echoed into tranquility and the arena lights began to flare in celebration as the speakers announced Shepard's achievement.

Kelly was proud of her idea to bring the whole crew to watch the ground team in action; she hoped to draw everybody together by sharing the experience. When Shepard had ordered the ground team to begin a heavy training regiment, Kelly had originally been looking forward to exercises in the cargo bay she could spy on, but the soldier instead booked out a "battlefield" in Illium's Armax Arena... and had just spent the last few minutes tearing it apart.

Shepard and her team had burst out through the doors on the far side of the arena in an unstoppable tsunami of gunfire, explosions and biotics, and less than five minutes later the whole field was a scene of simulated destruction, all hostiles completely wiped out. Apparently they had just broken one of the arena's records. Or perhaps all of them.

A sudden pressure drew Kelly's attention away from the carnage. The redhead looked down to her leg, where she saw a dark, slender hand crumpled against the bare thigh, just below the line of the skirt she had worn for this uniquely "off the _Normandy_" occasion, the touch sending sparks up her body. The redhead followed the toned arm up to the navy blue Alliance shirt of Samantha Traynor, whose chocolate eyes blinked once, startled, and almost comically traced the path of Kelly's gaze back down, before she blushed and quickly removed the hand, stumbling out an apology.

'Oh, I'm so sorry, I was going for... ah...'

With a smile, and a considerable amount of mental wrestling to resist any inappropriate comment about putting her hand back - _God, I need to get laid _- Kelly proffered the bag of popcorn she had acquired for the event.

'Ha, yes, thanks...' The Comms Specialist slowly took a few pieces of the treat and popped a single one into her mouth, chewing deliberately. 'Sorry about that, I was a little... distracted.'

Biting down yet another flirty retort, Kelly simply offered a bright smile. 'No problem. What did you think of them?'

The specialist's face twisted into confusion, and she looked back down to where her hand had touched. 'Erm, they're... _nice_!' Kelly's mouth dropped to an "o" as Sam tilted her head and continued. 'Ah... do you work out?'

The psychologist sat in stunned silence for a moment, before she gathered enough conscious thought to reply quietly. 'I... I meant Shepard and the team, Sam.'

Sam's eyes widened, and her skin turned a shade darker. 'O... oh! Hell, I'm sorry, I didn't mean... well, I _did_, they are...'

She coughed awkwardly, and spoke her next words in an amusingly formal tone. 'I thoroughly enjoyed it.'

Kelly smirked. She simply _could _not let that one pass. 'So did I.'

'The battle? Or...' Sam looked hard at Kelly, then broke into a smile as well, playfully pushing her arm. 'You're... _terrible_!'

The glance they shared sparked a rush of heat through Kelly's system, but before anything more could be made of it, Sam's attention was already back to the viewing window, on Shepard and the crew below, the moment forgotten.

When Sam spoke again, she sounded almost wistful. 'I read all the books about Shepard and her alien crew, but to actually see them in action... I'm supposed to be fascinated by fleets! Big powerful dreadnaughts and complex formations and data feeds I need to collate in a war room, but compared to what we just saw-' Traynor gestured to the battlefield, and her voice picked up, 'watching a fleet on a display is like watching slugs race each other. That's it. I'm ruined. Shepard has _ruined _me.'

Kelly couldn't help but chuckle, and evade the obvious innuendo.'Thinking of taking up a new line of work? She's still on the lookout for new ground crew...'

Sam's deep eyes widened again, and she quickly shook her hands ahead of her. 'Oh, God, no! I only _barely _scraped past my last firearms proficiency test in the Alliance, and somehow managed to burn myself on a heat sink _anyway_. I'd probably end up putting on my armour backwards and shooting myself in the foot, or something. I'll just... _admire_. From a great, great, distance.'

* * *

Faith tilted her head back and closed her eyes, feeling the hot water pound her skin and ease the tension from her muscles as she ran her hands through her hair.

The day had gone well. Throwing the team into the deep end together was probably not the most _professional _of possible training tactics, especially considering James was new and Liara was out of practice with her squad-fighting skills, but Shepard had learned a lot from the exercise; more than justifying the heavy cost of renting both the battlefield and the entire viewing booth.

Kelly had said the crew enjoyed the show: the yeoman continued to prove her worth in bringing the team together, and Shepard was pleased to see she had formed a good friendship with Traynor already. Vega and Cortez clearly already knew each other, and Faith knew that being alone on a new ship could be lonely for some. The open, friendly redhead had a way of making people feel welcome in a way Shepard knew she herself struggled with, and she had already seen the pair laughing together, which pleased her. Doctor Kenson also seemed to be doing well, having set up in Mordin's old lab to review the Collector and Reaper tech samples the team had picked up, and Shepard made a mental note to speak to Kenson the next day to check on the wounds the batarians had left, physical and otherwise.

_So far so good._

The combat simulation had also raised Faith's spirits in a manner she was almost ashamed to admit.

_I'm a fighter, no way around it..._

Feeling the adrenaline pound through her body, that blotting out of the fears and concerns so only the _here _and the _now _mattered, that satisfaction that came with a perfectly executed manoeuvre, that rush that came with a destroyed enemy...

She shook her head, spraying water across the bathroom as she stepped forward so the stream from above could run down her back.

_It was good to have Kasumi back._

She had not put any pressure on the thief to stay, but Faith also knew she had taken up residence in her old haunt of the port observation lounge - "just for tonight", she said, but Shepard did hope she would stay on. She had fought as if she hadn't missed a day; spotting out key targets, never afraid to get behind enemy lines, and packing more than one handy tech trick to obfuscate the opposition.

Their newest addition was an interesting one. He had shown her a _huge _suit of top-of-the-line Alliance armour he was itching to try out, but he had been restricted to arena gear today... not that that had impaired his efficiency. She had deliberately set him tasks that would be beyond a "normal" soldier and would stretch even many of the special forces she had worked with over her career, but he had handled them with aplomb... and more than a little recklessness.

_Need to make sure he keeps himself in check._

Garrus and Tali had, of course, been perfect. The trio were the backbone of any ground team Faith took: Garrus providing heavy fire support, Tali harassing and debilitating enemies, and the commando herself the tip of the spear, driving everybody forward.

Faith glanced over her shoulder to the open bathroom door, and through the steam and water saw the hazy blue outline of Liara sitting on the edge of her bed. The asari had fit back into the team remarkably well, and her previously powerful biotics seemed to only have _improved _with the two years she spent alone. However, her physical stamina had weakened, so Faith resolved to have the team begin more regimented drills to ensure everybody was in peak shape.

Satisfied both that she was clean, and that her mental assessment of the crew was complete, Faith snapped the shower to a cooler temperature for a few seconds, before switching it off entirely.

She grinned as warm air blasted some of the moisture from her body, thinking of the gift sitting in the bottom drawer of her desk. She had not had a chance to give it to Liara the previous night - the asari had been wonderfully enthusiastic about "breaking in" their now shared room - and instead planned to give it to her tonight.

Finally pulling on a pair of plain briefs and a tank top, Faith emerged from the shower, rubbing a small towel through her hair-

When all thoughts of gift giving and relaxing disappeared. Liara's face was curiously blank, and a datapad sat loosely in her hands, looking ready to fall through her weak grip.

Faith instantly crossed the room, and ducked to a squat before Liara, taking the datapad with one hand and one of Liara's with the other.

'Liara, what's wrong?'

As if snapped from a daze, Liara suddenly looked to the datapad Faith was now clutching. 'Oh, I apologise, I...'

Faith glanced at the small computer, to see it running its screensaver. It must have been idle for some time.

_What could affect her like this?_

'I... I received a message from the asari government.'

Faith's heart began to pound, and she tightened her grip on Liara's hand, nervous as the asari looked back up into her eyes.

'What did they say?'

'It... it is about mother. I need to return to Thessia.'

* * *

'_The recent data release is entirely the opinion of Spectre Shepard. The Council is currently attempting to contact her to investigate her assertions.'_

'_No, the Council is not ready to comment on her allegations about the Reapers.'_

'_Her speculation about the disaster of the Bahak system is just that. The Council will not comment on its validity, or rumours of Shepard's own involvement, until our own investigation is complete.'_

'_We will not discuss her future with the Spectres. As I have said several times, we wish to speak to Shepard about her actions before any decision is made.'_

'_No, that does __**not **__mean her status is in question.'_

'_We stand behind Shepard in that she believes her actions were justified as per her duty as a Spectre. Before the Council makes a formal declaration on the data, we wish to speak to Spectre Shepard.'_

'_The Council will not repeat itself any further on this matter. Thank you all for your time.'_

Councillor Tevos turned without a further word, bright lights still flashing against the wall before her, and had to resist _running _from the huge room full of journalists shouting out the same questions again and again.

For two hours she had repeated the same platitudes, the same political nothings, the same indecisive statements that frustrated her and her audience alike.

There was only so much longer she could keep the meaningless words flowing. The press were the least of her worries: militaries and governments were demanding action be taken, though when pressed they were unsurprisingly vague about what that action might be, doubly so considering that the Council had no real power over them. What could they do? Talk to Shepard? The Council had done that, and Tevos knew that Shepard was in at least semi-frequent contact with officials in most species' militaries; always happy to discuss what she knew about the Reapers.

Were they to arrest her? She had killed over quarter of a million batarians. Such an action, no matter _why _she did it, could not be simply forgotten. In her data release, Shepard had implicated the Reapers in the act. Not with proof or even an outright statement, but hints, that worse was to come.

Or, could they declare that Shepard was _right?_ That galactic invasion was just months away? There was still not enough evidence for that. Tevos was nervous to find herself more and more... _amenable_... to the idea, but she still couldn't say in any kind of confidence that Shepard was right. She could not ask the galaxy to prepare for something she did not herself believe in.

_We could begin __**something **__though._

Eventually she reached her office, and as soon as the door slid shut behind her, Tevos alerted her secretary that she was not to be disturbed for ten minutes, and sank into her soft chair.

The data release through the extranet was surprisingly thorough, both in content and delivery. It had seeped into peoples' emails, onto debating forums, into the laps of journalists, all within a matter of _hours_. There was no way the Council could bury something like that, like they had the original rumours of the Reapers.

If the content itself was not causing so much trouble, the Council would likely have launched an investigation into just how Shepard managed to not only flood the extranet like she had, but also managed it _without _triggering the dozens of layers of security built into the galactic comm buoy network that made the extranet possible.

But the content had been so explosive that the means had largely taken a back seat.

Videos from Shepard's missions, censored to hide confidential mission information but otherwise leaving everything regarding the Reapers in. Scientific analysis of a surprisingly large amount of technology; from geth upgrades, to the Collectors, to pieces of Sovereign and the human monstrosity found on the Collector base. Theories on everything from the possible size and tactics of the Reaper force based on the archaeological evidence from the Prothean extinction, to estimates on how old they are, and _why _they do what they do.

Advice. For militaries: to upgrade their technology and begin arming up. For governments: to stockpile supplies and begin wartime preparations. For civilians: to join their species' militaries, or form local militias. No orders, no incitement to panic... just calm, reasonable _suggestions_, that made it all the harder to paint Shepard as somehow unstable.

And _everybody _wanted to know what the Council thought about it.

And of course, the Council did not know what they thought about it. Much of the information there they already knew: could they admit that without compromising their positions? They could only delay giving a decisive response for so long.

Tevos softly leaned her head back, the sensitive skin beneath her crest brushing pleasantly against the soft head of her chair, and a gratified groan was dangerously close to erupting from her lips before she caught herself, and flushed ashamedly, despite there being nobody else to see or hear her.

_Goddess... _it had been far too long since she had received any real physical comfort, relaxed properly in the company of another without any expectations, but she simply could not allow herself that moment of weakness, knowing far too many would take advantage.

_Councillor Tevos? I apologise for interrupting._

With a sigh Tevos sat up straight, and activated her comm. 'I told you I was not to be disturbed.'

_Forgive me Councillor, but the representatives of the matriarchy have just connected, and they wish to speak with you._

Tevos should have known. It was only a matter of time before they called again.

She was tempted to tell the matriarchs to wait, but the last thing she needed were her own people frustrated with her. She stood up and smoothed out her dress, and ensured her crests were flared proudly. 'Very well, patch them through.'

Three distinctive holograms appeared against her wall as Tevos mentally prepared herself. Whilst the matriarchs _always _presented a unified front to the galaxy, to retain the image of asari unity, Tevos knew that behind the scenes lay a web of deception, centuries-long grudges, _millennia _long family ambitions, and more violence than any of them would like to admit.

The three matriarchs before her represented the voices of the main wings of asari politics.

'Councillor Tevos. Thank you for taking our call.' The central figure, Matriarch Leyya of house Y'sona opened the dialogue. Leyya was perhaps the most publicly influential asari - other than herself - currently alive. She preached a path of peaceful mediation and diplomacy, a path of mutual growth and benefit... a path only the asari were fit to lead the other species on. To ensure this, she knew the asari needed great strength and advantage over the other species so their primitive tendencies did not put the asari in a weak position. She advocated tight control of the asari's resources and economy to this effect, ensuring nothing was shared without their people gaining from the transaction. The galaxy saw the asari the way _she _wanted it to, and her successes made her opinion akin to the word of a monarch.

Tevos clasped her hands before her, and bowed her head with deference. 'Matriarchs. You honour me with your counsel.'

'Enough, Tevos, we have important business to discuss.' To Leyya's left stood Matriarch Ves, of house T'Marni. Matriarch Ves advocated a somewhat provocative view... but one that was gaining increasing popularity these days. She believed the asari were dangerously close to being eclipsed on a galactic stage, and wanted their people to change traditions accordingly. She tried to encourage asari to begin a "useful" life at an earlier age - learning, fighting for something other than a mercenary band, having children - in order to, to reduce the viewpoint to a rather cold comparison, increase their _productivity. _What is more formidable, she argued, than a population who have spent so long bettering themselves - as scientists, as fighters, as engineers and more - that if anybody was to ask who the galaxy's leading voice on _anything _was, the answer would _always _be an asari. She wished the asari to be more active, rather than their current relatively passive style, in their dominance.

'As is your word, Matriarch Ves,' Tevos replied with a nod, unsurprised by Ves' hurried attitude. She always acted as though she had something important to be doing... Tevos might have thought her sire a salarian, if not for the rumours she was actually a pureblood.

'We call with further instructions on your advocation of the will of Thessia, in regards to the "Reaper" issue.' To the right of Matriarch Leyya was Matriarch Artus, of house Arania. Many maidens saw her as weak; a pushover and an appeaser, but Tevos and the others knew her promotion of even greater openness to the galaxy were all to increase the standing of the asari. If every galactic economic policy was written to rely on asari resources, if every alien government contained officials who had sired asari children, if every military used asari technology, their people could _never _be ignored. To her, the asari would be the glue to hold the galaxy together. Her critics said, however, that by following her opinions, the asari would eventually lose an economy, worlds, even _culture _to call their own.

These three ideologies were by no means the only ones her people held, and in truth were not even especially mutually exclusive from each other, but they represented the prevalent opinions of the asari galactic presence, and whilst the matriarchs had little in the way of tangible _power _in the vast asari democracy, their words carried great weight, and they led the discussions amongst the matriarchs who drafted the laws that would be passed to the asari people to vote on.

Tevos simply nodded, and allowed the matriarchs to speak their orders.

'Your current deferment is appreciated in that you avoid committing the asari to potentially hasty and costly action,' Leyya began, 'and you present our position with the grace expected of you. We speak to you now with instruction for the future.'

_Thank the Goddess._

Tevos felt a rush of relief at the fact, but kept her face neutral.

The Councillor was normally both willing, and permitted, to make her own decisions and actions in her position. The matriarchs trusted her with this - and she earned that trust in return by furthering the interests of the asari people. But when it came to these _Reapers_... they wanted frequent updates. They asked for her opinion surprisingly often, before giving unusually explicit orders. Following Shepard's ploy, Tevos had been holding back on committing the asari either way until she had a chance to speak to the matriarchs, to ensure her own career was not damaged.

'Our plans have been somewhat forced by the information circulating the extranet,' said Ves, clasping her hands behind her back. 'The issue is no longer to be delayed. Amongst the data your human Spectre released is a piece of information that has far reaching consequences to the asari people, which has caused some disturbance. I refer to the assertion that Matriarch Benezia of house T'Soni was under the influence of what Shepard calls "indoctrination", and that her treasonous actions were not made of her own volition. As you are no doubt aware, Benezia's posthumous trial is still ongoing, and whilst Shepard made this claim previously, the new... _evidence_... she presented to the galaxy has clouded the issue. For her actions to be accredited to another would not only clear her of all charges, but also declare to the asari people that we, as their guides, take these rumours as fact.'

Tevos' lips tightened to a thin line. Benezia had been a matriarch of extremely high standing, whose views held a place somewhere between those of Leyya and Artus. Benezia herself held great influence amongst a lot of people, asari and alien alike, because she - unlike many of the other matriarchs who enjoyed the comforts of home - frequently ventured from Thessia to preach her wisdom across the galaxy. If she were declared a victim of this "indoctrination", the consequences would be far reaching.

Matriarch Artus confirmed Tevos' suspicions. 'Given Benezia's unique status amongst both our own people and the galaxy at large in matters social, cultural, financial and religious, to formally declare her actions treasonous and confiscate her holdings would ripple wide. Likewise, to declare her victim of indoctrination and acquit her of personal responsibility would be to admit our position on the Reapers to a great number of people throughout the galaxy... with the obvious associated responsibilities that would come with such an admission.'

Tevos nodded, holding in her frown.

_What are they working around to? _

Matriarch Leyya finally spoke again, sounding uncharacteristically cold. 'Your part in our course of action will begin following the culmination of the trial of Matriarch Benezia, to which we have demanded the presence of her daughter. Her handler recently reported that not only has she resurfaced on Illium, but also that she has taken Spectre Shepard as a lover, which greatly benefits us. We expect Shepard to accompany Maiden T'Soni to Thessia, at which point...'

With an ever increasing sense of dread, Councillor Tevos listened to her part in the plans... and the schemes of the matriarchs became at once to her more clear, and somehow even further mired in deception and lies.

* * *

_**A/N: **A big thank you to Vector 71 and Jay8008 for the help with this one, they really helped me get it into shape :-)_

_Off to Thessia next chapter! _


	36. Chapter 36

With a tired sigh and a rub of her weary eyes, Faith leaned back into the seat she had positioned in front of her terminal in Liara's new office, wincing as she heard her back quietly pop as it curved over the back of the chair.

The ambiguous nature of the data streams before her soured her mood with frustration. She closed yet another Council report regarding the Collector Base, written as if the existence of the human-Reaper monstrosity - largely destroyed as it was - was still not evidence enough of the Collectors' purpose.

_Damned Council, so focused on the insignificant things..._

She glanced over to Liara, to see the asari sitting cross legged on the sofa they had installed at the far end of the room, reading a datapad. A sea of displays flickered in the interim space, displaying the progress of a multitude of complex operations. How Liara kept track of it all was an absolute mystery, but somehow she not only managed it, but was also able to filter down the more useful data accumulated into things they could _use_.

The rest of the crew were likely sleeping, but the pair had decided to get a little more done before bed, neither being able to get much sleep since the news had landed.

Two short days had passed since they had received the message from Thessia. Once she had recovered from the initial shock of the revelation Liara had rallied magnificently, logically assessing it like any other problem she might encounter.

But it was _not _any other problem, and they both knew it.

Benezia's death was something Liara had not yet properly processed. Liara had been the one to fire the final shot: how could anything make that better?

It had taken Faith _years _to fully come to terms with her own parents' deaths, and that had been a tragic accident. Faith had not held her mother as she coughed out her lifeblood, knowing she was the one who fired the shot...

Faith knew she needed to do _something _to help Liara, she just wished she knew _what_. Liara was always so caring and empathetic when it came to these kinds of things, but the soldier felt that anything she could say or do was clunky and awkward, and riddled with a burning _guilt, _that it was _her _fault Liara had been in that position.

That would not stop her.

_She needs me. I just wish we could do this on __**her **__terms, damn her government for forcing this __**now**__..._

The first step was to accompany her to Thessia.

The retrofits were still not complete, but Liara had said that her presence was not _immediately _required on her homeworld; asari politics and law tended to be much less regimented than the human equivalent, and they could wait the extra week the crews estimated for completion before taking the _Normandy _to Thessia without any adverse effect.

Liara began to stretch languidly with a wide yawn, first arching her back in a _hugely _distracting way, then pushing her legs out before her and wiggling her bare toes. Tracing the graceful curve of her lover's body, Faith decided they were done with work for the day. She spoke quietly. 'What are you reading?'

The asari relaxed, then looked up with a soft smile, gesturing to the datapad in her hand. 'I am reviewing the notes from Project Lazarus, actually.'

_Wasn't expecting __**that...**_

Abandoning the useless Council report for Liara's VI to archive, Faith crossed the office and sat alongside her lover.

'You've got the finished product right here.' As soon as the words left her mouth, Faith grimaced.

_Great time for bad jokes.._

To her relief, Liara actually chuckled. 'I suppose I do. Though to test what I am looking for would risk poisoning you. I believe I would miss having you around.'

'Poison?' Faith's mind lost itself in the unexpected direction of the conversation.

Deciding it would be better to let Liara explain before she said something _really _stupid, Faith simply sank deeper into the chair.

The archaeologist nodded, still smiling. 'I was curious to know if you could eat the natural flora of Thessia. I suppose I _could _try simply feeding you a meal laced with element zero, but Miranda's notes are less dangerous.' She nodded again to the datapad in her hand. 'We are lucky, your bolstered metabolism can filter trace levels. Not many non-asari have the chance to safely enjoy the native cuisine of our homeworld.'

The wistfulness in Liara's voice pulled a smile across Faith's face. 'I look forward to it.'

But she would not let herself be distracted.

Shepard softly plucked the datapad from Liara's hands, and gazed deep into the brilliant blue eyes before her. 'Liara, are you... ok?'

The asari blinked, and turned away. 'What do you mean?'

Shepard took Liara's hand, wishing she knew what to say. 'When we get there... I'm not sure how asari legal systems work, but I imagine they're going to be digging up a lot of dirt on your mother. Are... you ready for that?'

Liara's gaze flickered to the ground. 'Mother's... mother's actions were not her own, Faith. At the end, not even her _life _was her own.'

'We both know it wasn't so simple, Liara.' Faith whispered. 'Please don't pretend what happened didn't affect you.'

Liara closed her eyes, and took a deep breath. 'Yes, it affected me. You know that... but, what happened cannot be undone. She fell victim to indoctrination. She... she allied with Saren. She was part of the attack on Eden Prime, she-'

'She was your mother,' Faith interrupted softly, tenderly brushing her thumb across Liara's palm.

Liara removed her hand, not unkindly, and stood up.

Faith looked to the floor, ashamed, for her part in pulling Liara to this life, for not being fast enough on Noveria, for having to bring this up _now_.

'Yes... she was. And yet...' the asari shook her head, facing away from Faith who sat, unsure of whether to stand and comfort Liara, or hear her out. _Does she need to say this? _'I told you when we first met that we had not been close for years. What I meant was that we had not _talked _for years... and that we had not been close for decades.'

Faith could scarcely imagine that. Before her family had been torn apart by death, slavery, and duty, they had been close; _happy_, in a way she kept sacred to the deepest depths of her heart. There was always hardship, and arguments, and scraps between her sisters, but it all seemed so empty when compared to the memories of catching mum and dad sharing a kiss against the sunset, making a noise of disgust and seeing them grin at her, or having her youngest sister laughing happily in her arms as they raced across Mindoir on horseback.

But Faith knew, in a deep part of her heart, that Liara's memories of her mother were not so clear cut.

She stood and crossed to Liara, placing a hand on her shoulder. 'You don't think of her that way, though,' Shepard ventured, 'you try, but I... I've seen her, sometimes, when we meld, but I didn't want to push...'

Liara turned, smiling softly, and leaned in to rest her head on Faith's shoulder. 'I will not break if you ask.'

'I know!' the human exclaimed quietly in return. 'I just... God, I _know _how hard it is Liara, but to lose her like you did... I know you need to be ready. I wish it hadn't been forced like this.'

Liara's voice, slightly muffled, tickled against Faith's neck. 'W... what did you see? When we were joined?'

Putting the experience to spoken word seemed only to lessen it, but hearing the need in her lover's voice, Faith nevertheless thought of those whispers of the union Liara associated with her mother...

_Strength... not military power, or biotic might... but strength, nameless, without form..._

_Duty... to a cause she found herself more and more devoted to..._

_A coldness that grew deeper as the years went on, always a hard thing for Liara to consider..._

_Beauty... she was so beautiful..._

_A million memories, blending together into everything and nothing, with a streak through every one..._

'Yellow,' Faith eventually said gently, 'I... It sounds strange, but she's... _yellow_.'

She shook her head, feeling Liara's crest tickling her chin. 'I wish I could say it-'

A quiet, choked, sob silenced her, and Faith's heart shattered at the tiny noise.

_I'm so sorry... for everything..._

Cerulean arms slipped around her waist, gripping with a soft pressure, trembling almost imperceptibly.

Silently she drew one arm around Liara's shoulders, reaching up to gently stroke the top of the asari's crests, and slid the other around her waist, squeezing gently.

The embrace drew out for several minutes, until Liara finally stopped shaking.

'Liara...' Faith said, unsure, wishing there was something more she could do or say.

'She...' Liara began, voice thick and wavery, 'she liked to wear yellow, when... when I was younger, and-'

Liara's grip tightened, and a warm wetness seeped through to Faith's shoulder, the sensation dampening her own eyes with a deep empathy. Shepard murmured a wordless noise of comfort as she held on tighter, trying with everything she had to pour her love and support through the embrace.

'And... she was not... _affectionate_, but she was kind, and... and _beautiful, _and I always remember those dresses... and... _Goddess... _I... I...'

Another choked sob escaped the asari, piercing deep into Faith's heart, and it was all she could do to stay strong, returning the embrace Liara was holding to so tightly.

Eventually Liara fell quiet again, Faith continuing to quietly stroke her crests.

After several minutes, the asari eventually pulled back. The whites of her eyes were streaked with purple, the skin around them puffy and swollen, but there was a small, sad, smile on her face, as she began to brush Faith's damp top. 'I... I am sorry, I...'

Faith caught Liara's hand, and planted a kiss on the knuckles. 'Don't you dare apologise for this, Liara T'Soni.'

The asari's gaze flickered to the floor, and Faith softly took Liara's chin and raised it again, brushing away the moisture around her eyes with a gentle thumb.

Liara's eyes seemed to brighten, but the sad smile on her face lingered. 'I _miss _her, Faith.'

'You carry the best of her, Liara. Her strength, her beauty, and those _good _memories that what happened can't keep poisoned forever.'

Liara nodded slowly. 'I... I think she would like that. The real her.'

'I would like to have known her,' Shepard said quietly, imagining how Benezia must have been before Saren and Sovereign destroyed her will.

Liara's smile widened into something happier, and the soldier's heart lightened with it. 'I imagine she would have more than one question for you about your intentions with me.'

'I'd be terrified,' Faith admitted, shaking her head with a smile. She usually did not entertain "would haves", but could see Liara was enjoying the speculations. 'I think full body armour would have been in order.'

With a soft chuckle Liara leaned in again, onto Faith's dry shoulder. 'I think she would have respected you. After a long and thorough questioning, at least.'

Faith tilted her head and planted a kiss on the top of Liara's. 'I'm glad.'

The silence drew out again, though this time it felt comfortable, and warm. Faith hoped whatever was going through Liara's mind was not as painful as she knew such memories could be.

Eventually, with a deep breath, Liara looked up with dazzling eyes. 'Thank you, Faith. I... feel a little better now. I... perhaps I can tell you more about her, tomorrow. If you want.'

'I'd like that, Liara,' Faith said quietly with a smile, 'I'd like that a lot.'

* * *

Communications Specialist Traynor stood straight, and for what seemed like the tenth time that minute, brushed down the front of her uniform to ensure it was tidy and presentable.

Extra care had been taken with her appearance today: the _Normandy _was finally ready to depart, and Shepard had ordered the crew to gather around the CIC. Sam had taken up position at the terminal next to Kelly, who looked a lot less dressed up than she did, in an admittedly smart but unmarked shirt and trousers.

_**Everybody **__here looks less dressed up than me._

Standing beside her, resting on a back foot with massive arms crossed across his barrel chest, Lieutenant Vega was wearing a tight white t-shirt with the Alliance logo stamped on the front: the kind of thing soldiers normally wore _under _their uniforms... or tourists wore after visiting Arcturus. Beside him, Lieutenant Cortez was dressed similarly to herself, but his uniform was well worn, and she could spot more than one oil stain.

Her pristine clothes began to feel out of place. Would Shepard think it was too much? The soldier _had _said that as long as it was relatively smart and appropriate, everybody could wear what they liked, but Sam had been asked by Admiral Hackett to wear Alliance colours at all times... maybe she could find something less formal for next time? It would save her time getting dressed, if nothing else.

Sam berated herself, shaking her head almost imperceptibly. She was _proud _of the care she took over her appearance, and was proud of her uniform. Worrying about what anybody else thought was stupid.

Opposite her, Doctor Kenson was talking quietly to Detective Vakarian and Tali (who had refused to give any title Sam could refer to, much to her frustration), the former clad in his nearly-iconic gleaming blue armour, the latter in the very fetching environmental suit that emphasised her frankly _amazing _hips. Engineers Daniels and Donnelly were chatting happily, the latter cupping his hands suggestively before him as the former rolled her eyes, and finally, Doctor Chakwas stood by Flight Lieutenant "Joker" Moreau, who was dressed in what looked like a t-shirt sporting the logo of a heavy metal band, propped up by the doctor on one arm, and a crutch under the other.

_It's mad, I've read stories about these people, and they are __**right in front of me!**_

They had all been very welcoming, inviting her to their conversations in the mess hall, to the brief gatherings they held most nights in the lounge, and even insisted she called them by first names - something she still could not easily get used to on a military ship, in her uniform.

Even Shepard had made the effort to talk to her, _more than once_, over the last week; despite her ridiculous fumbling words and blabbing about things the Spectre surely wasn't interested in about. Sam swallowed, hoping she hadn't made _too _much of a fool out of herself when she had spent about five minutes talking about her bloody _toothbrush _of all things.

The elevator doors hissed open, and as one the people standing around the projector of the CIC straightened.

Side by side, Commander Shepard and Doctor T'Soni strode from the elevator. The asari looked almost startled to see so many gathered in the room, but quickly recovered herself, and took a position at the terminal opposite to Kelly's. Sam creased her brow at the asari, before she remembered herself and cleared her face. Though nobody had told her outright, it did not take much to deduce that she and Shepard were lovers: they never _acted _couple-y when they were on duty, but that they frequently seemed to come and go together like they just had, that T'Soni had no apparent living quarters, and that everybody seemed to grow awkward when she dared ask the question outright...

_Just my luck, there __**had **__to be a beautiful asari on board._

Shepard herself stepped forward, climbing the few steps to the raised platform above the CIC. She was dressed in a black, unmarked uniform, high at the neck with long sleeves, and looked _amazing. _As the Spectre gathered her thoughts, Sam took a closer look at her. She wasn't exactly _attractive, _which had surprised Sam at first. She towered over Sam by at least a solid twenty centimetres, and made her feel more than a bit tiny with those wide shoulders and muscular arms. The scars she had seen cut into Shepard's face on Arcturus had all but faded now, though when the light hit her in a certain way Sam could still see them... but they were not as off-putting as she _usually _found scars. In a way, they complimented Shepard's hard features; her strong jaw, her dark eyes, her heavy brow.

Shepard was not beautiful - Sam would normally use the word _handsome _to describe a woman like her - but there was just _something _about her. Whether it was the "galactic hero" thing, or that frankly terrifying and at once amazing gaze she had, or the pleasant way her clipped voice sent jolts down Sam's spine...

Said voice snapped Sam from her deliberations.

'Before I begin, I'd like to inform you that I had a long talk with Miss Goto last night. For those of you who recently joined us, Kasumi is a professional thief who assisted us in our fight against the Collectors. To keep a long story short, she agreed to stay with us, though she will be heading out on assignment if we need anything _procured_. Come out and say hello, Kasumi.'

Sam's eyes were drawn to movement, as Garrus coolly glanced over both of his shoulders... then she herself jumped with a startled squeak as a very small woman in a black hood materialised _right next to her_. Sam saw a pair of painted lips curl into a wicked smile, and Kasumi spoke in a playful voice. 'Sorry about that.'

Hearing Kelly chuckle, Sam shot the redhead a dirty glare, then looked again at the thief. The _thief. _A professional criminal, on what was supposed to be a "good guy" vessel. Shepard _had _said she would see illegal activities... but the concept still made Sam uncomfortable. She would check her bags and pockets before bed.

A series of "welcome backs" and laughter rang around the small group, and Sam guessed the diminutive woman was actually quite popular... was she giving Kasumi an unfair assessment because of her profession? After a few seconds Shepard held up a hand, small smile on her face. 'Enough. So, the _main _reason we're here is to learn what we're doing next.'

The woman looked around, particularly at the Alliance personnel. When Shepard's eyes caught her own, Sam had to resist trembling at the fierce intensity in them.

'We are the crew of what is now by _far _the most advanced frigate in the galaxy. The mission of this vessel is to ensure the galaxy is prepared for the arrival of the Reapers, and to do that, we need the government of every single species to both believe our warnings, and be ready to fight _with _us. Anybody going it alone in the war, will be destroyed. That is the long and short of it.'

Shepard clasped her hands behind her back. 'This will not be an easy task. We are few, and galactic opinion is largely apathetic. Our efforts to date have peaked the interests of the militaries, and annoyance of governments. But it is not enough. We need to gather every fleet into a unified force, and determine how best to use it to combat the Reapers. Obviously, this will take more than a few good speeches.'

Shepard took a deep breath, and Sam released the one she was holding. The CIC was deadly silent other than the ever present hum of the computers... run by that _AI _with the lovely voice... _crazy_...

'To those who do not know, we have the resources, and the _will, _to set in action any operation, up to and including full scale sabotage of representative governments, if necessary.'

A chill ran down Sam's spine at the words. Shepard said that without any emotion: she was not exaggerating. How could she have that kind of power? Did _anybody _have the right to command that kind of influence?

She found herself struggling to draw breath as the gravity of the situation hit her like a train. This was not a story, full of heroes. This was war, even if the fighting was not yet obvious.

'But I would prefer it not come to that,' Shepard continued, 'and will be receptive to any ideas or suggestions on preparations we _can _make.'

Shepard looked to the asari beside her, who was holding a similar pose, hands clasped behind her back.

'Our first destination is Thessia, where Doctor T'Soni and I will attend the posthumous trial of Matriarch Benezia. Benezia was accomplice to Saren Arterius, and deeply involved in the Reaper attack three years ago. Liara's sources tell us that Benezia's trial has taken on a role far beyond a determination of her guilt, and that much of the asari populace is now looking to it as a source of information on the Reapers. We hope that by making a good show of it not only can we clear Liara's mother by proving she was indoctrinated, we can kick start the asari war effort. _This _is the kind of thing we can be doing, and as I said, all suggestions are welcomed.'

Shepard looked around the group, and took another step forward. 'I won't lie to you. The next few months are not going to be easy. People will treat everything we say with scepticism and mistrust. Some of our actions might earn us the ire, or _worse, _of governments, and we could find ourselves enemies of any number of states.'

Sam's breath caught, and not for the first time, fears plagued her thoughts.

_Am I doing the right thing here? She's talking about us being __**criminals! **__And even if I am doing the right thing, __I'm only barely a scientist, not a fighter, not a... __**soldier**__, how can I help?_

Becoming more animated as she spoke, Shepard began pacing the small podium, the ringing footsteps giving her voice an almost musical quality as it filled the CIC - calming Sam's worries and filling the specialist with a confidence she did not know she possessed.

'But we have a duty to ourselves, to our families, to the whole damned galaxy, to give ourselves the best fighting chance we can. And we are not so helpless. We _will _get more people on our side. We _will _win these support we need. We _will _make sure this galaxy is prepared to fight.'

The soldier leaned forward, clasping the rail around her podium. Her next words were an angry snarl that terrified and exhilarated Sam at once. 'And you can be _damned _sure that when the Reapers get here, we will be _ready!_'

* * *

'_What?!_'

+I am afraid that without prior clearance, I cannot allow your ship to dock on Thessia, or your crew to walk our planet. If you wish us to send you the required forms for docking and temporary visas, we will be more than happy to do so and your applications should be completed within one galactic standard month.+

Anger twitches across Faith's face, but I softly take her hand from the communicator on the _Normandy's _bridge before she replies, berating myself for forgetting this about my homeworld.'I am sorry, this is _entirely _my fault. I should have told you as soon as you decided we were to travel here, that the asari have strict controls over who is allowed on our worlds.'

I have been away from Thessia for so long, I had almost _forgotten _about the customs of my home. On the galactic stage our governments say travel is restricted because of our great reserves element zero forcing us to be vigilant about smuggling... but I suspect the truth is slightly less pragmatic. I actually find myself a little uncomfortable at the thought of hundreds of thousands of non-asari wandering the homeworld without restriction - it is a place of great beauty, with very little crime and-

_Goddess, I should not think that way, most of those I meet are __**good **__people._

Faith looks at me, then shakes her head with a grimace. 'It's not your fault Liara, you've had more than enough to worry about. I've been operating in the Terminus for so long I forgot most civilised places have controls like this.'

With a glance at the communicator, she lowers her voice. 'Waving my Spectre status in their face probably wouldn't help matters, would it?'

'Ha, I'd like to see that!' Joker pipes up from his seat. He was very... _animated_... in his displeasure at the news: I believe he took it as an insult to his ship.

'It would certainly let us pass, but I do not think that is the impression we wish to give, given our reason for being here.' I can just _imagine _the diplomatic incident it would cause...

'Thought so. Are _you _allowed down, at least? Maybe you could keep them busy until we get these... _forms_...filed.'

I shake my head quickly. 'That would take too long. You are already sacrificing a lot of time to do this for me, I would not want to delay this any longer.'

I know she sees this not as a sacrifice but an investment, but I know that she _could _be doing more productive things with the time. That she has put everything on hold, just for _me... _

With a smile, I shuffle forwards towards the communicator. 'I have an idea, but it will mean only the pair of us can go down for now. Would... would that be alright?'

She blinks, and answers quickly. 'Sure. It's better than none of us, and Garrus is making some progress with the turian hierarchy I'm sure will keep everybody up here busy.'

'You mean I _won't _get to visit the planet full of hot... ah...' Joker begins, and both Faith and I turn to look at him. He glances at me, then fixes his gaze steadfastly at his controls.

'Good idea shutting up there, Joker.' Faith says coldly.

I know the reputation of my people amongst most humans, but sometimes I truly do not understand why they are at once so excited and ashamed by their reactions to us. I would not be offended by the likely direction his words were taking: we _embrace _beauty and sensuality, and see nothing wrong with the fact... even if I myself can be a little uncomfortable with it, _most _asari certainly are not.

Leaving the thought to one side, I lean forwards and activate the communicator. 'I speak as the heiress to House T'Soni. Is _my _passage to the homeworld permitted?'

There is silence for several seconds, before the pleasant feminine voice speaks again.

+We will need to confirm your identity upon arrival, Maiden T'Soni, but you will not be inhibited in your travels.+

I nod, and smile at Faith, before activating the microphone again. 'Thank you. I will be arriving with my lover by shuttle, which will return to the ship immediately.'

Two choked noises sound in surprise at my words, but the voice is already replying.

+Identity of your lover, Maiden T'Soni?+

'Spectre Shepard, human, female.'

The silence draws out again, and I steadfastly _avoid _the two human gazes boring into me. _Goddess, they both know, why do they act as though talking of it is so taboo?_

+That is acceptable. May your time on the homeworld be blessed, Maiden T'Soni.+

The communicator falls silent... the bridge similarly so. Faith's eyes are wide, and there is a slight blush across her cheeks.

Eventually, Joker speaks up again. 'Sooo... _you _gonna ask what that was about, Shepard?'

At the two inquisitive glares, I sigh. 'Most asari are allowed to wander our own space without restriction, and we are usually permitted to bring a partner with us, if it is determined their presence will not be disruptive.'

'Disruptive?' Faith prompts.

I nod. 'Yes. Criminals would be forbidden, and certain species would be given heavy consideration. Humans are still new to the galaxy so most might not be allowed, but you are a beacon of your people, and your presence will be seen as beneficial to the reputation of the asari.'

She opens her mouth to speak again, but Joker interrupts. 'Do they have to be... ah... lovers?'

'Dammit Joker, enough.' Faith growls, but I quiet her with a gentle touch.

'No, they do not, but as a maiden, such is... _expected_... of me, and trying to explain any other type of relationship might lead to unwarranted curiosity and questioning.'

The two curious gazes bore into me again, before Joker shrugs and spins back around in his chair. 'Cool, whatever. I'll be up here, thinking of you two, down there... having fun...'

_Goddess..._

_I will inform you if he tries to access any inappropriate video logs again, Shepard._

EDI's voice fills the cabin, and the man groans loudly.

Faith sighs. '_Thanks_, EDI, but you don't have to tell me. Just make sure-'

Her iron gaze snaps down to Joker's chair, where the man once again has fixed his eyes on the display before him.

'_Again_?'

* * *

_**A/N: **__Thank you Jay8008 and Vector 71!_

_To Thessia! There are still a few more chapters to go before the Reaper war kicks off (which, as a slight teaser, won't actually begin with the arrival of the Reapers) and I hope to fill them with political intrigue, drama, asari, and with any luck a big fluffy chapter à__ la Mindoir :-D_

_Thank you to everybody who continues to read this story; the enthusiasm and feedback is always wonderful!_


	37. Chapter 37

'..._Wow._'

Faith Shepard had seen a lot of the galaxy in her thirty years.

The first half of her life had been spent exploring the vast, deserted plains of Mindoir. Hot sun baking the back of her neck, hard labour unknowingly preparing her for a life of combat, a tight community of friends and family, that would one day be shattered. On returning, she had rediscovered her love for the planet that had been home to her sadness and joy. The empty horizons, the unexplored caves and sunsets that set the world on fire with blazing light - an experience made all the more magical for being shared with Liara.

After that, she had stepped on exactly forty three different worlds, moons, stations and asteroids over her career. She had forged herself in the dank rainforests of Brazil on Earth. She had proven her mettle at the nightmare on Torfan. She had her actions condemned in public, then sanctioned in a back room on Arcturus. She had been paraded around Elysium to impress tourists. She had seen the beginning of the end of the galaxy on the shattered paradise of Eden Prime, been granted the galaxy's most infamous status on the Citadel, had even located the mythical Prothean ruins of Ilos.

Most times, she dismounted her shuttle, tactically assessed the area, and set out to do whatever she was there to do with a cold efficiency.

But as she stepped out of Armali Spaceport, a spike of cold winter air cutting through her heavy military-style jacket, Faith found herself wordlessly staring at the vista before her, drinking in the view like a regular tourist.

A thin snow filled the air, seeming to glitter as it silently breezed to the ground, heavy enough to set but not enough to obstruct vision.

In the distance ahead was Armali itself, graceful peaks of elegant buildings reaching towards the lilac sky, silhouetted against the rising sun like delicate fingers dancing over fire. The city was _huge, _but it appeared far more spacious than any equivalent city on a human colony, or even Illium; the tallest buildings were spread wide, and from what Faith knew of Thessia the architecture was designed with beauty, as much as practicality, in mind, meaning there were few cities that packed its residents tight like those on Earth.

The land separating the spaceport and the city was a vast forest of trees and flora, all coated with a perfect layer of snow that _glistened _with sparkling sapphire in the light of the star Parnitha. From where the human stood it all appeared expertly manicured; it was just the right level of _wild_, and she could see several asari walking slowly through the trees, leaving trails of soft footsteps in the snow.

Far above, countless skycars silently soared back and forth from their location to the city, mere specks against the unusually coloured sky, all following a single trail so as to minimise their visual pollution.

It was... _perfect_.

Thessia was known as the "crown jewel of the galaxy," and it was instantly obvious why.

The natural beauty of the planet - the sky, the flora and even the snow, glittering with traces of element zero - shone through and bolstered the amazing architecture, forming into a view Faith knew she would never forget.

_This is Liara's home._

Faith herself had grown up in a place where hard work was paramount, where resources were scarce, where nobody was _better _than anybody else because of where they came from or what they did. The small colony had no room for such divisions, or shirking of responsibilities. It had formed her into the person she was today, and Liara had commented as much when they visited Mindoir.

It was very easy to see that the same could be said of Liara, and this planet.

With some difficulty Faith tore her eyes away from the magnificent sight to look at the asari, clad in a soft black coat trimmed with white faux fur; something she had acquired during her time on Illium.

The look on Liara's face melted her heart.

Her cerulean eyes were wide with the same amazement Faith herself felt, dazzling as they caught the light of the sun. Her lips were curled into a small but true smile, the stresses and emotion of the last few days forgotten in the face of such elegant, natural beauty.

Liara was truly beautiful. The knowledge itself was not strange, but how she seemed to re-realise the fact every time she looked at the asari was a constant source of pleasant surprise.

Until she met Liara, the soldier had barely given any thought to romance. She had been the oldest "child" on Mindoir; the next oldest person there being ten years older than herself, and the community was so small that those younger than her were more often than not her charges or even students, as well as her friends. The nearest she had gotten to a relationship was an inexpert, sloppy and deeply unsatisfying kiss with her best friend Mikey, an experience she vowed never to repeat with the boy.

After the attack on her home, she had been absolutely uninterested in such things. She'd gone on a single, disastrous date with one of the other N7 candidates before the training began_. _And after that, after Torfan, _nothing. _Duty and death was all she knew.

Faith allowed her gaze to trail down Liara's body, following the graceful curves emphasised by the tight coat. She had never found the female form any more visually appealing than a man's, or been especially attracted to women... and even _now _did not find herself any more excited by the thoughts than she used to be.

But there was something about _Liara _that threw all of that apparent disinterest out of the window, something that brought out a sensualist side she never knew she had, that filled her mind with images she would barely have thought herself capable of just months previously.

Faith shook her head with a smile, and dragged her gaze back up to Liara's still enraptured face. There was no point trying to analyse her feelings, and she was more than happy to simply enjoy and share them with the one person who brought her life some modicum of peace and joy, to do her utmost to give Liara as much happiness as she could.

Faith stayed silent for close to a minute, simply drinking in the look on her lover's face, the tiny movements of her eyes as they found a new wonder to watch, the curve that never left her lips.

Eventually, Liara looked back, and seemed to realise that the human had been looking at her rather than the view. She smiled, and asked, 'What?'

Faith said nothing and simply turned back to the view with a mysterious smile, taking Liara's gloved hand into her own.

_This cannot last._

The ever-present knowledge burned at the back of Shepard's mind.

It had been bothering her more and more, over the past few weeks that something was not quite right. She had been enjoying the time she shared with Liara, the time without the need for constant combat, without the need to be _The Commander_. She had enjoyed it more than she had any right to. But when she had returned to her ship_, _when she had put on her uniform, when she had stood in the CIC, adopted her clipped, authoritative voice, things had felt... _right. _

_It's necessary. _

An uncomfortable thought intruded, unwelcome; that it was the only way she _knew _how to exist, that the last few weeks had been a novel break, that now she was back to the life she was more comfortable living.

Faith banished it.

She had this opportunity, _now_, to enjoy a relative peace as best she could before an endless war burned throughout the entire galaxy.

And as she squeezed Liara's hand in a comfortable silence, gazing over the beautiful snowy landscape, she resolved to make the most of it.

* * *

'You're probably getting sick of me saying this... but _wow._'

Glancing down at Faith with a smile playing across my lips, I reach out to take her hand, and she helps me step from the shuttle.

'This is all... _yours?_' The awe in her voice rings true... and serves as a reminder of a life I lived, then left, so long ago.

It _is _all mine.

It barely seems real.

The huge building standing proud on the hill before us, gracefully constructed and perfectly maintained, is mine. It does not serve as the living quarters it once did, when the T'Soni family numbered in the dozens, but is instead now a palace of diplomacy and learning, and from the small shuttle bay I can see several asari through the windows nearest us.

The smaller buildings spotted around the grounds to either side are mine; the living quarters, the commando barracks, the small museums and arts displays the visitors to the estate can wander between meetings.

The grounds themselves are mine; a vast plot of land that would take over half a day to walk the perimeter, with a lake, several woods, a decorative flower garden, a large vegetable garden and vast orchard... all coated in the lovely winter snow, glittering in the sun.

_Goddess... _

The Shadow Broker controls an unknowable amount of money, owns hundreds of companies, and even has power over several whole _worlds_. But yet I still see that as somewhat different to my _own _resources; the money I made on Illium, the allowance mother once granted me... and now this, my... _inheritance_.

Thinking of it all that way brings the absolute truth of what happened into a sharp light.

Mother is dead.

She died three years ago.

_Has it truly been so long?_

Several weeks after it happened, soon after we halted the attack on the Citadel, I was contacted by the estate's custodian; a kindly matron who has no desire to involve herself in politics or galactic decisions. I informed her that I would not return to Thessia in any immediate capacity and trusted her to oversee everything, as she had for decades previously.

That was, in honesty, the last time I thought of it.

It was _easier _to bury myself in the cold persona of an information broker, to lose myself in work, than to remember this life, where I would hide from my guardians, where I would spy on the meetings, where I would dig holes in the gardens to mother's chastisement...

_Mother..._

Compared to the responsibility of operating the Shadow Broker network, this seems so relatively small... and yet, seeing it all spread out before me, a sight I have seen hundreds of times...

_This is mine._

I swallow thickly, and turn to Faith. Her beautiful eyes are full of concern, of that absolute love I know she harbours, that she can find so difficult to express.

But I know her mind, I know that behind the occasional awkward word, the professional shell and the often conflicted emotion, is a woman who _cares _for me in such an honest and absolute way, and that strength, that knowledge, reassures me that we _can _get through this, that she will be there for me, whatever might happen.

I smile shortly, and nod, forcing myself to sound calm, finding comfort in _facts, _in things I have control of. 'Yes. It technically belongs to me, though everything is managed by one of mother's oldest friends, who I wish to speak to before we find our room. Because of mother's ongoing trial, though, my ownership is currently... the subject of some debate. I believe that is one of the things the matriarchs will wish to question me about.'

I take her arm, and slowly lead her up the path - cleared from snow - to the main building of the estate.

'What can you tell me about the trial?' she asks, softly.

'What do you want to know?'

'I...' She shakes her head. 'I'm sorry, but I don't know much about non-human legal systems. We were taught about militaries in the Alliance, and I've been researching how the different governments work because it'll help prepare for the Reapers, but-'

I silence her with a quietly amused hum. 'You do not need to apologise.'

We are still several minutes' walk from the estate, so I think of the best way to present the knowledge: comparison to human legal systems would probably lead to the quickest understanding.

'Our legal systems are decided by regional democracies and upheld by local governments, but nearly all comply to a single doctrine. Our systems are quite different from humans, and I believe part of this lies in the difference between our cultures.'

I feel a little awkward comparing, knowing that I will probably sound arrogant, but it is the truth, and I know Faith will not take the words personally...

'Amongst asari, and on Thessia in particular, petty crime is practically unheard of. Acts such as vandalism are incredibly rare, and more serious offenses such as fraud, or the dealing in restricted goods and substances, do not happen often. For these offenses, our system is similar to your own, with a heavy fine, or incarceration.'

I glance over to her, seeing her look back, interested. 'Do... you imprison people for long? For a human getting ten years is a big part of their life, but for an asari, it's far less.'

I slow our pace, realising this might take longer than I anticipated. 'I would need more specific data to compare exactly, but I believe incarceration periods are roughly similar, or perhaps slightly longer. Just because we live for longer, it does not mean we experience the actual passage of time any differently.'

She nods slowly. 'That makes sense. If you scaled up you'd be locking people away for a century for a fairly minor crime.'

'Correct,' I reply with a nod, 'it could drive those incarcerated insane, in a very literal sense. You will find many matriarchs have actually been imprisoned before at some point in their lives, either by our own government or an alien one. But our philosophy is that when the punishment is complete, we do not continue to judge them for the action, and so it is never held against them. One thousand years is a very long time to live, and everybody makes mistakes.'

Faith smiles. 'The asari have a very forgiving attitude.'

'It is not forgiveness, as such. The punishment is still carried out, and reparations may need to be made for some time afterwards. But we try to hold to the mantra that the punishment seals the crime away.'

She nods again, more slowly. 'I quite like that idea. For a human, having a criminal record makes it much more difficult to get a decent job, and it never goes away.'

'The conviction lingers?' I ask, curiosity briefly banishing the worries being here has caused. Humans arrived on the galactic scene after my education and so what I know, I know from my own research, which living amongst humans frequently reminds me is woefully incomplete. 'Why would you release the criminal if you wished to continue punishing them?'

Another smile forms on her lips, sadder this time. 'Not officially. But if an employer has two candidates, and one's been in trouble, they'll choose the one who made better life choices to that point.' She shakes her head. 'When you put it your way though, it doesn't really make sense. There'll be some people who, like you said, made a mistake and just want to get on with their lives. Keeping that on them makes it harder.' The smile turns to a grimace. 'But then we've also got criminals who just keep on offending. I'm sure they all have their sob story, but when all they do with their lives is hurt and steal, I don't feel much sympathy.'

That humans would release a person they know will just return to a life of crime...

Discussions such as this constantly remind me just how different the species are, in ways far beyond how we look. Humanity seems so full of contradictions; at once eager to prove themselves to the galaxy, and resentful of having to do so; being one of the most liberal species in terms of interspecies acceptance and relationships, and yet harbouring some of the most vicious xenophobia; and capable of feats of both incredible greatness, and terrible horror.

Their rapid explosion onto the galactic stage has been met by a great deal of confusion and concern amongst _all _species; for all of humanity's boisterous and occasionally bullying ways, they have also prompted a period of the greatest technological and political developments for centuries. Their expansion is astounding: their population is still less half that of the next most populous Council species - my own - but they have grown exponentially, and even avoided the worst of the problems usually associated with such expansion. They push the rules, but no further than any other species does, always applying for proper colonisation rights and contributing _more _than their required share to galactic fleets, peacekeeping efforts and governments, avoiding a repeat of the krogan rebellions. Perhaps, for all the less desirable traits humans can harbour, they are what the galaxy needs... especially with the Reapers coming. A staid and predictable galaxy would stand no chance.

I squeeze Faith's arm, feeling her muscles tense pleasantly in return. For whatever can be said about humanity as a whole, I know one thing for certain. I love _my _human, and nothing will ever stop that.

Our walk slows further as both of us take in the beautiful snowy surroundings, clutching to each other for shared comfort and wisps of warmth. 'I would be remiss to omit that serious felonies such as aggravated assault, violent robberies, smuggling of element zero, and of course murder are punishable by death, if the perpetrator did so purposefully and maliciously.'

Faith's eyes widen in surprise, then her brow furrows. 'I always wanted to talk to Samara about that. Death is a very final way to punish somebody, and she indicated she had a very high body count.'

It is true, I suppose, but these crimes happen so rarely. Justicars are often the ones to carry out the punishment, but the will is there for our courts to do so if necessary. 'It might seem strange to compare this to the way we treat lesser criminals, but those offences punishable by death are those that, through a conscious action, violate the victim, or undermine the asari as a whole. Property can be repaired, money repaid. But if somebody leaves a person injured, or fearful to wander the streets... the asari believe that unacceptable. The Justicar code is modelled on the larger legal system, with the difference being the Justicar herself is entrusted to carry out the judgment and punishment.'

'I guess that explains why there's such a low crime rate,' Faith says quietly, 'Though... what about mercenaries? I've had to fight asari mercs more than once. Does that not count?'

I shake my head. 'Not unless they operate in asari space. These laws are only applied here, and we respect any foreign laws when we visit other planets. Likewise, most do not travel to the lawless areas of the galaxy expecting a safe existence.'

I pause as we near the building, before a small parade of trees, all coated in sparkling snow. What can I say of mother's... crime?

When I first heard her voice on that tape, talking to Saren about an attack that left thousands of humans dead, I could scarcely believe it. And even once acceptance began to seep in, events happened so fast, until that final, fatal moment...

Seeing her like that...

So _cold_...

I did not hesitate.

She attacked Faith with her biotics, and left herself open.

Perhaps she did not expect me to shoot.

But I did. Without thinking, without considering the decision.

Again the thoughts, the worries, the horrific memories bubble up like the blood that frothed at her lips as she spluttered-

_Goddess..._

I clench my eyes shut, and lean into Faith's body, taking a slow breath, forcing myself again to think of_ facts, _that I can relay without that terror rearing itself.

'The... the exception is the crime my mother is being charged with. Treason is the rather ill-defined crime of "Lessening the asari people," an act determined by the matriarchs we will be meeting soon. This can be through actions or reputation, and can be committed by any asari, anywhere in the galaxy. There are different levels, depending on the severity of the accusation, and the prominence of the asari in question. M...' I take a deep breath. 'Mother's charges are the most serious imaginable, because of the scale of what she did, and her fame across the galaxy. The punishment is always severe, but for her...'

_Treasonous... traitor... _

Those words and more were used across the galaxy to describe her not so long ago.

I was even brought before the _Citadel Council_, where they demanded I be given to their custody for questioning, and the three most powerful people in the galaxy called her that... and implied _I _was involved, for a crime I could barely comprehend my _mother _committing.

My breath hitches, and I have to bite the flood of emotion at the memory, to stop my chest from shuddering, to stop my eyes clenching shut.

I was so _scared_ then, of those C-Sec agents, of the Councillors... even of Faith, of the Spectre who stood her ground and defended me when she had absolutely _no _reason to do so. That terrifying and wonderful human, telling the galaxy she trusted me...

'How do they decide guilt?' Faith asks softly, and I can feel her gaze on the side of my face... but I look steadfastly forwards at the trees, determined to keep my voice steady when I know seeing that affection could reduce me to nothing.

'By... by determining motivation. What mother... what she did is not in question. Over the past three years the actions of her whole life have been considered by those charged with deciding her fate, to help judge if her final actions were malicious, or misguided. If she is found guilty, she would have been executed by means of assassination, and all of her... all of _this-_' I gesture to the vast grounds, 'will be confiscated by the local government, then distributed or used as seen fit. Her investments will be seized and used to repay any debts, and whatever status the name T'Soni holds will be reduced to less than nothing.'

The words sound so cold from my own mouth... could that actually happen?

Everything else has been hard enough, but to have all the _good _mother accomplished reduced to nothing, because she fell victim to indoctrination? Because she believed she could guide Saren onto a path of light?

My _mother_, my mother who was so strong and honest and _good _in her intentions to make the galaxy a better place, now subject to a _criminal _trial!

And she cannot even defend herself!

'It's not fair,' I whisper, turning to look at Faith, whose dark gaze full of love and care finally melts the last of my shell, exposes the feelings buried for _so_ long.

Our linked arms slip as she turns, to take both of my hands in hers. Her hands are always so warm, so comforting, and her touch so soft despite skin hardened by years of fighting.

_Safe..._

'No, it's not,' She replies, close enough that I can see moisture clinging to her lips, her breath steaming in the cool winter air. She speaks again, softly. 'Are you ok, being back here?'

'I-' I begin automatically, but something stops me reassuring her.

I am _not _ok, being back here.

I shake my head, and glance to the cleared path beneath us. 'N-no. It has been so long, and...'

I gently remove one of my hands as she holds the other tighter, then point to a vegetable garden in the distance, distinct under the snow. 'There... that is where I... I did my first dig. I was convinced there was treasure there because the vegetables were always so perfect, and I ruined a whole crop, and mother was so _mad..._'

I look back to Faith, smiling stupidly, eyes swimming, remembering the _look _on her face. 'She was so _proud _of this place! She had so little time, but always found enough to tend to that garden herself... and after she had finished shouting at me, she went out and bought me my first history book.'

Faith smiles softly at that as well, no doubt imagining a smaller _me _being berated.

'She... she loved the estate. She would involve herself in the building restorations, and would show visitors around herself rather than assign the task to one of the staff, and I would follow them, hiding behind the trees...'

I sniff, and close my eyes, seeing the memories perfectly, comforted by the warm hand holding mine, the strong presence shouting _safe_. 'She always knew I was there, but let me think I was hiding...'

That innocence seems to long ago now... so nearly forgotten beneath arguments and distance and so much _blood... _did she feel the same? Could she have been here today, with me, if things had gone differently?

Would I have even known that woman?

Or would we have been strangers?

_Goddess, how could we have grown so far apart?_

Another image floats through my mind, forcing me to clench my eyes shut against the harsh truth. 'I keep expecting her to come out through those doors, Faith! To... for both of us to apologise, and everything to be right again, b-but I know she won't, and... and...'

Strong arms wrap around me, and I bury my face into her shoulder, finally letting go, knowing she is _there_, that she will help and care for me, after all this time of keeping it to myself...

_Three years..._

How could I have buried it for so long?

Forgotten her? Insulted her memory like I have been doing?

I look up. 'It _hurts _being back here, Faith.'

It _hurts._

Admitting it brings it all to a head.

Mother is gone.

Ended, by Saren, by indoctrination, by my bullet.

_Gone. _

And she won't be coming back. She will not appear at the door. I cannot tell her how sorry I am for growing so distant, for pushing her away.

I cannot even remember our final words, before she disappeared with Saren.

A stupid argument, no doubt.

My trying to justify myself to her, to convince myself she did not have my own interests in mind.

Just like the time before, and the time before that.

When was the last time we spoke words of love?

_Years?_

_Decades?_

_Goddess... I do not remember..._

She was my _mother_, whatever our differences, I wish...

'I... I wish I could have said...'

I cannot finish, tears choking my words, but Faith does not mind, simply holding tighter, muttering wordless comfort, soft breath warming across my crests.

_Thank you..._

Every time I think it is over, another tiny memory, another argument remembered, another gesture of kindness bubbles up, forcing me back into that comforting embrace, so strong, so understanding.

Time passes, in the silent winter air.

I could not say how much, but eventually, when I feel I have nothing left to give, I finally draw in another shuddering breath, looking up. 'Thank you for being here, Faith. It... it... _Goddess... _it hurts, but-'

She nods, eyes full of compassion, arms wrapped around me, warming, protecting in this cold place. 'But it's not all a bad hurt.'

Her words ring with a quiet certainty, and I see that she _sees _my feelings about this place, knows them, had felt just the same when we visited Mindoir.

'No, it is not. I... think she would have liked me being back here, for-'

The sick reality of what is happening hits me once again, and I break our embrace slowly.

'She... she would not want this place left to the hands of her competitors, or the government. It is all I have left of her! I do not want them to take it, or call her-'

A soft touch turns my face, and the intensity in Faith's dark eyes reminds me of that same fire that defended me on that day, all those years ago, in front of the Council. 'That _won't _happen. We won't let it.'

We do not trouble ourselves with empty reassurance, if there is none to give. That is for her soldiers, for those who look to her when hope is impossible to come by.

Not for us, as partners.

But there is no room for doubt in her voice.

And, Goddess... I believe her.

* * *

_**A/N: **Thank you Jay8008 and Vector 71 for your continuing help, and to all of my readers for the amazing support on this journey!_


	38. Chapter 38

A blast of warm air washed over Faith and Liara, and the soldier decided to keep herself from vocalising yet another noise of pleased surprise.

Liara's family home was _beautiful_.

The vast entrance hall, all graceful curves and soft colours, was clearly designed to both welcome and impress, and did so with breathtaking ease. The high ceiling was spotted with dozens of lights, like stars in the night sky, each a slightly different colour that cascaded through the room in a rainbow, reflecting from the slopes of the walls with subtle shifts of lustre and hue.

Faith took in the surroundings, glancing through the single door which seemed to lead to an even greater hall, in the split second before a sight she had _never _seen before came barreling towards them.

An overweight asari appeared through a small door in the distance of the next room, and on sighting the pair, immediately bolted towards them.

_Danger._

Acting on deeply ingrained instinct, Faith's hand flickered downwards to her waist, for her fingers to twitch at the obvious emptiness.

_No gun!_

Firearms were heavily controlled on Thessia.

She had used her Spectre status to ensure she could carry one - she _never _went unarmed - but promised to keep it hidden as a compromise to Liara; she was doing everything she could to ensure she did not sabotage Liara's reputation for the upcoming trial.

With her gun packed in her bag, on a planet full of natural biotics Shepard felt somewhat at a disadvantage - she had been practicing her own with Liara, but was not nearly confident enough to say she was anything _approaching _a strong biotic.

But before her mind even formed another plan, it became obvious that the asari running towards them was not a threat. She had a wide smile across her homely face - and Liara herself had darted forwards, arms outstretched, a similar smile touching her own lips.

Faith relaxed as the pair embraced, and assessed the asari holding her lover. She was still smiling happily, dressed in clothes that almost appeared human in design - a jacket and skirt - though the bright colours and unusual cut confirmed asari origin. Her skin was a deep indigo, and her crests shorter than most asari's, reminding Faith of close cropped human hair. After several seconds, the asari planted a soft kiss on Liara's cheek - the familiar gesture causing Faith's fingers to twitch again - and held her back at arm's length.

'Mistress T'Soni, you look _wonderful!_' she beamed, looking up and down Liara's body. 'How long has it been since you left? Thirty years? Forty? You were barely a child then, and now... a beautiful maiden if ever I saw one!'

Liara blushed, and wriggled awkwardly from the grasp... the movement instantly reminding Faith of the way her sisters used to do in order avoid their mother's inspection, and finally disarming the last of her suspicions. The asari was clearly neither a threat to their safety, nor a potential source of any romantic awkwardness.

Finally breaking free, a delicious dark blush still caressing her cheeks, Liara gave a warm smile. 'It has been forty two years. And you must call me Liara, please!'

The other asari shook her head harshly. 'Nonsense. You are the Mistress of this estate, and I'll call you such.' She tilted her head, looking over Liara's shoulder, and her unusually dark purple eyes locked Faith's, as if noticing her for the first time-

And Shepard instantly saw that the friendly asari had a hard steel inside her, that the charming personality hid remarkably well. For an uncomfortable second the pair assessed each other, until again the asari's face lit into a smile. 'A human? Oh, I have never met one before! Is she yours?'

Faith's deep eyes widened, and whatever reply she could have made was forgotten.

_Of course __**I **__would say I am, but for her to assume?_

Liara looked about as embarrassed as Faith felt, burying her face into her hand. 'Goddess, it is not like-'

After an awkward second, Faith absolutely unsure of how to respond, Liara removed her hand, stood straight and took a step back so the pair could see each other. 'This is Spectre Faith Shepard, my partner. Faith, this is Matron Rania, custodian of the estate.'

Rania gave a small cough, an amused smile on her face. Liara looked back, confused, and tilted her head.

Several seconds of tense anticipation passed, until the younger asari's eyes brightened, and she spoke excitedly, 'Oh! I apologise! Faith, this is_ Matriarch _Rania.'

Faith did not know how Liara could tell - Rania had the ageless beauty of all asari, graceful despite being heavier set than any of the species she had seen before. But the custodian did not seem to mind the confusion, and instantly crossed the hall to draw Faith into an embrace which the stoic soldier awkwardly returned, despite her body reflexively trying to reject the gesture.

'I hope you take good care of her, Spectre.' The whispered voice in her ear was hard, full of that same steel she had glimpsed when Rania first saw her. Before she could respond, Rania held Faith back at arm's length just as she had Liara.

Feeling a bite of anger at the implication of the question, Faith battled to remember that she was here for _Liara's _sake, and simply nodded, holding the matriarch's hard gaze. Eventually, Rania nodded back with what seemed to be a satisfied smile, and the awkward moment passed, Liara apparently not even noticing. She crossed to the pair, and placed a hand on Rania's shoulder, gently drawing her away - to Faith's relief. She was not generally comfortable with casual touches like that, though had promised to both herself and Liara that whatever she could do whilst on Thessia to make a good impression, she _would_.

Even if it eventually meant embracing every damned one of Benezia's prosecutors; she could handle the protective questioning of Liara's guardian.

'When did it happen, Matriarch?' Liara asked, softly inflecting the last word.

Rania turned, and gave a warm smile. 'Oh, please, _you _will call me Rania. I feel old enough already!' The matriarch shook her head. 'It was when Mistress Benezia... when she left us, and you granted me full control of the estate until your return. I'd been old enough for decades.'

Faith looked on in confusion. Was the progression from maiden, to matron, to matriarch, a conscious decision? And why were Benezia, and Rania, referred to by their given name in formal titles, and Liara by her family name? She was again reminded that as well as she knew Liara, there was still _so _much about the asari she did not understand. She resolved to ask Liara the questions when they were alone.

Liara seemed to notice Shepard's confusion, as perceptive as always. 'Our responsibilities define us as much as our age and physiology, Faith.'

Rania nodded, picking up the explanation. 'That's right. When I realised _I _was responsible for the whole estate... well, I couldn't delay it any longer.' Again Rania looked long and hard at Liara. 'You look like you've got far more duties than a girl your age should have, Mistress.'

With a sad smile Liara nodded. 'Perhaps. But it is necessary.'

'It always seems that way, dear, but know that you have a whole life before you. I would not see you falter so soon.'

Faith crossed the hall to Liara, standing beside her partner. 'She does not carry her burdens alone.'

Again Rania locked her gaze, but this time it was touched with affection. 'Good. I've heard of you, Spectre, and it's not _nearly _all good. But I trust myself rather than the words of others, and believe you do care for her, even if I'd rather she enjoy a more carefree youth.'

'It is my choice, Rania,' said Liara softly, the words filling Faith with both pride... and a touch of guilt. She too would prefer Liara live a life of innocent happiness, free of the worries and horrors her own life brought, but knew also that Liara spoke the truth. The asari was as bound to their battles as Faith herself was, and _chose _to stay and fight. 'Though, I would ask of you to continue to assist me, if you would. I have not returned to take control of the estate, and your continued support here is invaluable to me.'

'Of course, Mistress T'Soni.' Rania replied instantly, bowing her head.

The dynamic between the two was unusual, Faith noted. Rania seemed to act at once as a parent figure, a friend, an advisor and a servant of Liara, with Liara acting the reciprocal roles in return. And yet, the odd combination of relationships bundled into one did not seem unnatural; perhaps such was commonplace amongst asari, rather than the more strictly defined relationships humans tended to hold.

With yet another warm smile, Rania turned and led the pair deeper into the vast central hall of the house. The grand, circular room stood with three levels, each tiered with an elegantly decorated balcony overlooking the richly adorned floor the trio were slowly crossing. Faith could see several asari traverse far above them: likely students or diplomats, according to Liara's words regarding the function of the building. On the ceiling high above them was a beautifully painted fresco which, if Faith's asari mythology was correct, displayed an image of the goddess Athame, warmly looking down on the visitors. There were no obvious stairs; they must have been in the building proper, perhaps behind one of the six doors circling the room.

She could scarcely comprehend that this was _all _Liara's. Faith was just a simple farm girl, a soldier whose greatest exposure to high culture was the ceremonies she attended after Sovereign's attack on the Citadel. Liara was as close as asari had to _nobility, _vastly wealthy and influential. Out on the _Normandy _such things mattered little, and she knew that Liara held no feelings of superiority from her upbringing, but in the face of the full grandeur of House T'Soni, Faith could not help but feel a little out of place.

Rania's voice echoed softly across the vast hall. 'If you wish, I can brief you on the status of the estate, Mistress T'Soni. Following Mistress Benezia's... fall... the fortunes have been in flux but continue on an overall positive, if slow, upward trend.'

Taking Faith's arm again, Liara replied, 'I would like that, Rania, thank you. But perhaps tomorrow morning? We have travelled far today.'

'Of course, Mistress.' Rania said quickly. 'But there is somebody else-'

Before she could finish, the small door Rania had entered through earlier opened and, slowly, a familiar face came into view.

'Shiala!' Liara's voice rang happily, as she darted forward to the asari Shepard had spared on Feros, wide smile across her face.

But as Shiala stepped out, the human noticed she looked an unhealthy shade of green, just like the clones the Thorian had produced, and Shepard's stomach dropped... then Shiala took another step from the door.

Liara faltered, as she came further into the light.

The asari commando was limping heavily, most of her body weight supported by a cane.

* * *

With a disgruntled scowl, Shiala limped through the open doorway before her, immediately blasted by an icy breeze that cut straight through to her bones. Hobbling forward to ensure the door shut behind her, leaning bodily against her cane, she made her way out into the fresh morning.

She had talked with Liara and Shepard late into the previous night, detailing her life over the past few months, and by the time they had decided to turn in the snow had started up again. The pair had insisted she stay with them in the small, comfortable building they occupied - the living quarters closest to the main house - despite her insistence she could make it back to the guest quarters further afield she was staying in.

Shiala glanced to her ineffective leg, sighing sadly.

She was secretly grateful they had asked her to stay. Without transport, it would have been a long and painful walk back to her own quarters.

When the sickness had returned to Feros, she had travelled to Illium to seek aid - and Liara had put her in touch with Baria Frontiers, who had done a magnificent job both investigating and treating the illness...

Until her own had worsened.

Her skin pigment had changed to this disgusting green, her biotics became unstable, and the nausea was almost debilitating when it struck. It was then she found out the _other _part of the contract. The part that allowed the company to perform invasive tests on her, or else pay the full cost of their treatment.

Shiala closed her eyes, and breathed deeply, enjoying the taste of Thessia. The air of Feros was so _stale _in comparison, the scent of humans - though she had grown accustomed to it, even enjoyed it at times - was not nearly as pleasant as the background scent of her own people.

The first round of tests had been _awful. _The medical procedures were uncomfortable, but bearable, as she remembered why she was doing it. Repentance for her part in Benezia's treason, memories that seemed so _hazy _but still painful. For her unlikely new home on Feros, and her even less likely new human lover, who she missed so dearly. For the galaxy. Because it was suspected her indoctrination was key to why she was suffering, and if they could learn more about it, a few months, even years, of discomfort was a small price, considering her crimes.

The physical tests had been bearable. But when it came to the mental exam, Baria had an asari meld with her, to attempt to see if she could isolate any unusual brain activity that might explain what was wrong. She had tried to allow the asari in as best she could, but the brain resisted such cold examining and probing, the experience had left her feeling _violated_.

She looked around at the elegant gardens, coated in a soft, thick snow that shimmered in the morning sun. The grounds of the T'Soni estate had not cheered her as much as she had hoped they would when she returned just days previously - she had lived and worked here for decades under the matriarch, but it was just not the same any more.

The commandos she had gone to see had treated her with barely restrained hostility. She was the only one of Benezia's personal guard still alive, and it was clear the others were looking to blame her for anything from her sisters' deaths, to Benezia's treason. She had not stayed with them for long. It all seemed _empty, _without the matriarch there, lifeless in a way she could not quantify with words.

_Or maybe it's me._

_She _had chosen a new life, a new home, for herself, and this one was full of memories of a time that she would sooner forget, as the horrors of her actions under Benezia haunted her.

The former commando glanced up and down the paved path that crossed the front of the house, heated from beneath to clear it from snow, as she lowered herself into a seat just outside the doors. There was somebody coming. She could see a flickering figure in the distance, too far to make out clearly because of the trees lining much of the path.

Shiala decided to greet them when they passed, but remained sitting for now, lost in memory.

She had gone to Liara again, after that first round of tests. What she expected... was not what she got.

Liara was a fine woman, and was well on her way to becoming the true heir to Benezia. But for all her strength, Liara was still a very young maiden, and could not give Shiala the guidance she hoped for. It was unfair to approach Liara like that, to force a burden that should have been her own on another... and Liara, unsure, had been unable to assist Shiala's decision.

She had resented Liara for a few days, after that meeting, but it had not taken long to realise she was more upset with _herself. _She wanted an easy way out of her situation, a situation she deserved every uncomfortable, even painful, minute of.

In the end, she had gone back for more tests.

For more invasive physical procedures.

For more melds, each one less pleasant than the last.

_Until..._

She had tried to resist, on the fifth meld. More consciously than the brain's natural resistance, she had pushed back against the asari doctor, who - on Shiala's own shakily agreed prior permission - had continued her examination, more forcefully.

To the extent that, during a particularly violent struggle, something in Shiala's brain had been damaged.

The tests had immediately stopped after that. The cowardly bitch had been worried about Shiala _suing _them, of all things.

As if money was the first thing on her mind, when she was more worried about her damned _health. _

All things considered, she was relatively lucky. A leg that she might never be able to use properly again and a mild -_ish_- speech impediment was the limit of the damage. Compared to being knocked into a coma, or suffering debilitating cognitive damage, or more extensive physical disabilities, having to limp around on a cane and stutter every now and again was hardly the end of her life.

But for a commando like her, not so long ago at her physical peak, it was _galling _to be so impaired. Not to mention she still held the sickness, and the horrible skin tone.

_A prime example of asari grace... ha..._

The figure approaching seemed to add insult to injury. It was Shepard, she could see now, on a jog, breath visibly steaming behind her every few steps, feet pounding the path at a brutal pace. Shiala might have joined her, before...

Perhaps it was some divine punishment, for what she did under Benezia. Eden Prime. Feros. Countless smaller attacks that left dozens, _hundreds_, of innocents dead under her weapons and biotics. If that was the case, she deserved it.

Shepard finally arrived at the house, breathing heavily. As the human caught her breath, Shiala took a closer look at her. Unsurprisingly given her profession, she was more heavily built than any of the females on Feros, tight bands of muscles visible on her bare legs, clad just in shorts, and she could see the wide shoulders even beneath the soft, long-sleeved top she was wearing.

Face flushed red with exertion, Shepard pulled off the soft black hat she was wearing, and ran a hand through her short, sweat-soaked hair, leaving it looking unusually spiky.

After a couple more seconds, she glanced at Shiala, and flashed a small smile as she began cool-down stretches. 'You're awake early.'

Shiala nodded. 'So are you. The sun's only just come up, did you leave when it was still d...d-d-dark?'

She winced as her mind seemed to trip on the final word, but Shepard, thankfully, didn't give any indication she noticed, still breathing heavily. 'Yeah. I've been stuck in low gravity gyms... on ships for weeks. Feels good to run like this. Also... well...'

She looked around with a smile, breath still steaming before her. 'I'm not usually one for stopping... to look at the scenery... but this place is _amazing_.'

Shiala nodded. 'It is.'

Shepard finished her stretching, the pair staying in shared silence for several minutes, before straightening and gesturing to the bench Shiala was sitting on. 'Mind if I sit?'

Nodding again, Shiala shuffled over. Shepard sat beside her, and Shiala could not help but notice her legs were bumpy in the cold air, almost like an asari's pebbled skin.

_How unusual, these creatures are._

She missed Feros. It was such a strange thing, to be so longing for an alien planet, but the human community there was tight, drawn together by the tragedies of the Thorian and geth attack.

Happier memories of her lover there, Michael, filled her mind, tainted with worry. She had not yet told him of her injuries. Would he still love her, now she could not accompany him as he explored the old ruins?

'I appreciate you coming for Liara.' Shepard began, dark eyes locked to Shiala's own. Her breathing was regular now, but still heavy.

'When I heard, I had to help,' Shiala replied, remembering the guilt when she heard what was happening, and grimacing. 'I've g-got better experience of indoctrination than anyone else, right?'

Shepard nodded. 'I was wondering how you heard at all. You've been keeping yourself off the radar since we liberated Feros, right?'

"_Off the radar"... _Shiala's mind, and translator, took a second to understand the idiom. 'Yes. Most people think I died with the other com...m-m-m...'

She clenched her eyes shut, and took a deep breath before trying again. 'Commandos.'

Looking again, she saw Shepard nodding. 'You're taking a big risk, exposing yourself like this.'

Shiala frowned, and continued, slower this time. 'Maybe. It is the least I can do for what I was part of. When I was on Illium, for the tests, I got an anonymous message telling me what was happening here.'

Shepard's brow creased, and Shiala noted a thin red scar cutting through one of her eyebrows. She understood Shepard's frustration instantly. 'I know. I don't like it either. But I did some research, and found it was true, so...' She trailed off, and shrugged, a gesture she had picked up from the humans. 'I assume it was one of La...Lady Benezia's supporters. She had a lot of friends.'

'And one of them just happened to know who you are, what you've been through, and where you were? I don't buy it.' Shepard replied, looking angry.

Shiala almost smiled. 'If there's one thing y-you can always be certain of, Commander, it's that an asari knows more than she tells you.'

The human frowned again at that, but eventually sat back. 'Liara keeps saying that about the matriarchs we're going to meet. I guess whoever told you is on our side, at least, but I still don't like being kept in the dark.'

That time, Shiala did smile. 'That is the life of a commando. There is no use fretting that you cannot change.'

Shepard glanced at her through one eye, suspicious, then finally broke into a smile of her own. 'I guess it's the life of a human soldier too. Don't ask too much, right? We'll take the help where we can get it, but I'm still not going to just roll over and accept it without question.'

Shiala felt herself beginning to relax in the human's company. Both were soldiers in one form or another, and whilst in a different life they might have been forced to fight each other, here, where they had the same goals, they could share those things they had in common.

After several seconds, the human took a deep breath. 'Shiala, there's something else I wanted to talk to you about.'

Shiala nodded. 'Of course.'

'About your indoctrination.'

Shiala frowned, instantly uncomfortable again, but gestured for Shepard to go on.

'You said Baria Frontiers stopped when you got hurt?'

She resisted glancing down to her cane, and nodded wordlessly, not wanting to embarrass herself with another broken sentence.

'If I told you I knew somebody else investigating indoctrination, and that you could help, would you go?' The words, spoken without emotion, sent a chill down Shiala's spine.

_How __**dare **__she?_

She had to bite down the instinctive urge to stand up, to throw back her answer, to _rage _at the human's presumptuousness.

The question was... _fair_... as much as such a question could be. No demands, no attempt to appeal to a sense of duty, or guilt. No false promise about what it would involve.

Shepard was trying to prepare the galaxy for the Reapers' arrival.

And whilst it would be pleasant to imagine a war could be won with speeches and heroics, Shiala knew from long experience that was not the case. Superior intel, weaponry and tactics would win.

Indoctrination was one of the Reapers' most deadly weapons.

And Shiala was the _only _person ever to have recovered from it.

_Would I go?_

_**Could **__I go?_

_For more tests. _

_For more needles and questions and... and more of those horrible melds..._

Shiala glanced at Shepard, whose face gave no clue to her thoughts, then back down to her own legs.

One of which she might never be able to use properly again. Liara had _demanded _Shiala see a doctor, on the credits of House T'Soni.

But if the tests continued, she might never get better.

It was likely she would only continue to deteriorate.

Had she not given enough?

She thought of the dead colonists on Feros. The dead on Eden Prime.

_They _never had a choice.

Shiala looked up again at Shepard. 'I... want to but...' she shook her head. 'I need some time to think about it, Shepard. Maybe w... w-w-w... wh... w-_dammit_!'

The asari clenched her hands tightly into fists, feeling her biotics begin to spark across her knuckles.

Still, Shepard sat, impassive. Was the human truly asking her to subject herself to _more_, to risk worsening her condition?

_The dead never had a choice._

She took a breath again. 'When we are finished with the trial, ask me again. I will have an answer.'

Shepard nodded, and stood up. 'Thank you, Shiala. I could ask no more of you.'

* * *

With an indulgent sigh of pleasure, Aria T'Loak leaned back into her soft leather couch. It was a good day to be Queen, she decided. Afterlife had a pleasant buzz that had yet to turn into the more intense heartbeat of the night, she had just received news that a particularly large number of Council ships had passed through the Omega 4 Relay, all paying their frankly extortionate toll, and the broken form that Grizz was currently dragging down the stairs to be dumped outside would show everybody why when Aria wanted something, Aria _got _it.

Not to mention, a rather fortuitous series of events had come to pass that presented a rather unique opportunity.

She glanced up at Garka. 'Leave me.'

The heavily armoured batarian nodded once, then turned to leave her with just the dancers for company.

Calling up her omni-tool, she dialled the agent she had decided would be the one to carry out her will. It would be sweet indeed, to have the oh-so-famous Commander Shepard do as Aria commanded.

After several seconds, a pretty human female with red hair appeared above her wrist. 'Hello, can I help you?'

Her voice was sweet, and as the camera adjusted Aria could see the human had a wonderful figure.

Not exactly what she had expected from Shepard's secretary; the soldier seemed so boringly _uninterested _in such pursuits, and Aria spared a second to wonder if she should bother provoking that knowing glint in the red-haired human's eyes.

_Another time._

'I want to speak to her,' Aria said bluntly.

To her credit, the human did not act as though a stranger had just called the most secret ship in the galaxy and demanded to speak to its captain. She simply looked sympathetic - fake sympathetic, Aria noted, but she did a good job at masking it - and spoke politely. 'I'm sorry, but she won't be available to talk for several days. If you wish, I can-'

Aria's eye twitched. She _hated _platitudes. 'Do you know who I am?' she overrode, allowing a drop of venom to enter her voice, but not raising it.

'Aria T'Loak, ma'am,' the redhead replied, without missing a beat.

And, Aria noted, without reacting in any way _at all_. Not fear, nor some false bravado, or forced casualness. For all she looked like somebody hired for her boss to eyebang, there was clearly at least a little more to the pretty human than her appearance. 'That's right,' Aria drawled, 'so listen. I know your boss is on Thessia with her little playtoy.'

The human's eyes widened almost imperceptibly, and Aria allowed a whisper of a grin to touch her lips. 'Yes, I know. Now tell her I want to speak to her, and that it's important I do so _before _she leaves the planet.'

After several seconds of close scrutiny, the secretary finally nodded, and re-applied her endlessly polite smile. 'I'll let her know you want to speak to her, but I can't promise she'll answer.'

'She will,' Aria said with perfect confidence.

Shepard was a lot of things, but stupid was not one of them. She _owed _Aria for taking care of her ship after she had returned through the Omega 4 Relay, and whilst Aria continued to make a handsome profit from the Council science teams passing through on a near daily basis - a deal Shepard had negotiated - she still did not consider them even. She had seen Shepard's little announcement about the Reapers, and whilst it all seemed a little... _unlikely_, on meeting the Spectre Aria had noted that Shepard was one of those curious people who genuinely did not seem to care about empowering herself.

With her Spectre status and that lovely ship, combined with what seemed to be the "civilised" governments of the galaxy wanting only to wash their hands of her, the woman could have done just about anything. And yet, she just seemed interested in plucking a couple of particularly noteworthy individuals from Aria's nest, and pursuing a ridiculously suicidal mission involving the mysterious relay in her system.

Not that it mattered. Everybody had _something _they wanted, and if Shepard's motivations lay not with personal gain, then the alternative was easy enough to deduce.

She wanted fleets, soldiers, weapons and more to fight these Reapers.

And the Terminus had more of _those _than any government would care to admit... and there was only one person who could even _begin _to claim they commanded enough power to draw on that military might as a whole.

Aria felt her pulse quicken in anticipation. There was _nothing _better than a war. Pathetic, scared civilians would give everything of themselves for a promise of protection she had no intention of providing, smuggling would skyrocket, soldiers would look for any number of ways to blow off steam, and people stopped caring if their friends or neighbours went missing... _perfect. _If Shepard's war came about, she would be in the ideal place to profit.

And if Shepard expected that war, she needed Aria. It was as simple as that. They both knew it, and so it was no surprise that the soldier's face appeared above Aria's wrist less than a minute after red-haired disappeared.

Aria grinned. It wasn't often she talked to a person she could bait without intimidating them in one way or another. The teasing persona was the one she enjoyed the most. 'Shepard. Your secretary's such a sweet, pretty little thing. She even thought you might not take my call.'

'I'm here. What do you want, Aria?' Shepard replied gruffly.

The pirate's smile only widened, and she ignored the question. 'I'm glad you did. Otherwise I'd have had to call T'Soni's house directly, and we can't have her name tarnished any more, can we?'

That got her. Shepard's eyes narrowed, and there was a brief flash of teeth as she spoke coldly. 'Your deal's with me, not her.'

_Touchy subject... _and the subtext was obvious. Shepard wouldn't do anything to risk her position in the ridiculous farce of a trial that was the biggest news on Thessia.

It could have been frustrating, dealing with that kind of limitation, if Aria let herself get frustrated. But knowing the limits of her power was one of the reasons she had held it for so long. And whilst knowing such a tender point was undoubtedly an advantage in their negotiations, Aria also knew that Shepard would have no trouble telling Aria where to stuff it if she pushed too hard, or demanded too much in return for her favour. The Queen of Omega did not doubt she could suitably punish Shepard for doing so, but it was in nobody's interest to let such an opportunity go to waste.

Deciding that Shepard would not react well to any further teasing about her little pureblood pet - for now at least - Aria settled in to business. 'That it is. And as you have no doubt worked out, I am calling in that favour.'

The human nodded. 'Tell me.'

Aria leaned back again, mind working the best way to present her will.

Eventually she gave a predatory smile, and nodded. 'One of the matriarchs judging Benezia's trial is a prime _bitch _named Artus.'

Anger again flashed across Shepard's face, and the image jolted as the human obviously slashed the hand holding her omni-tool. 'No. We're leaving the trial out of this.'

'You didn't even hear me out, Shepard,' Aria drawled, allowing venom to seep into her voice. The human's arrogance set her teeth on edge, but the opportunity was one she could not afford to lose through anger. But she would _not _let some _human _think she could dictate Aria's will. 'Don't interrupt me again.'

A second passed, tense, before the human finally seemed to relax. 'I won't. But don't expect me to sabotage this trial for you.'

_Stuck up bitch..._

'I don't,' Aria replied, not allowing her anger to touch her. 'If things go as I expect, this can be a... mutually beneficial... arrangement.'

Shepard nodded. 'Okay. Tell me about Artus.'

Picturing the bitch's face, Aria scowled. 'Her public image is that she's soft, but don't let it fool you. They're all vipers, Shepard, and she's the worst of them. She'll leave you thinking _she's _the clever, reasonable, _wise _one, and you were an upstart fool for disagreeing with her. She'll use her tongue _however _she needs to get you on her side, but will never argue, never threaten.'

The human nodded thoughtfully, a look of distaste on her features, but stayed quiet.

Aria continued, pleased. 'She's taken a... _dislike_... to me. I think it's because one of her daughters is doing a _lovely _job fucking her way up my chain of command, but that doesn't matter. What matters to _you _is that she's also the one most likely to want Benezia's name spoiled.'

The matriarch's sudden shift was more an inconvenience than any real problem in terms of physical losses or gains - Artus was not _nearly _influential enough to make a sizeable dent in Aria's empire. But it was the _principal _of the thing that mattered: Artus was a public figure which gave her ravings weight, and given time the slight inconvenience might turn into something more.

Not to mention, it pissed Aria off, and _that _was reason enough for her to act.

The pirate felt that wonderful feeling of a plan coming together as a dark look soured the human's features. 'Why?'

_She __**really **__wants Benezia cleared, this will be easier than I thought._

'The usual,' Aria replied, 'she stands to make a lot of money if Benezia's investments fail, and she's best placed to take in all of Benezia's old followers if her name is disgraced. That kind of thing is _important _to them, you see.'

It was almost amusing, to watch the matriarchs scuttling around Thessia, weaving the webs of lies and deals and deceptions they imagined made them sophisticated. They thought they had power, when all it took was another of their number to _die _to kick up old grudges and have them at each other's throats for decades or longer.

Aria had even ordered a couple of assassinations for that exact reason, when she either needed them distracted, or when she was bored. _That _was power. One word from her and she could mobilise the entire might of Omega, without the bothersome process of democracy or convincing those who incorrectly thought their opinions _important _that the action was worthwhile.

And while she could have done the same in this situation; ordered an assassination or taken any other path, the opportunity here was much better, and the rewards so much... _sweeter._

She shifted herself into a more comfortable position in her sofa. 'So while Artus tries to convince everybody why it's important Benezia is labelled a traitor, why her property needs to be confiscated as an example to others, why the name T'Soni should be reduced to dirt-'

Shepard's face twitched prettily. _This is almost too easy... _'All sounding oh so _reasonable _of course, I want you to keep in mind that she's somebody _both _of us want shut up. You do what I want, and your debt is cleared.'

'Tell me.' Her voice was cold, and Aria grinned in victory.

'I don't just want you to defeat her in the trial, Shepard. I want her _humiliated. _I want her followers to think her feeble, her backers to lose confidence in her, her whore daughter to think she's not worth a damned phone call. How you do it is up to you. Use your Spectre status to arrest her in public. Provoke her into saying what she actually thinks for once; you'll find she holds some _interesting _prejudices. Break into her house and dig up some dirt on her, or plant something there if you feel like playing dirty. If you need resources; agents or evidence, I can smuggle-'

'That won't be necessary,' Shepard interrupted, and Aria was pleased enough with the anger in Shepard's eyes to allow it. 'You've made your point. But I want to know, what do you get out of this? I bet you could shut her up yourself in any number of ways.'

Aria's grin widened. 'Of course I could. But when people find out _Commander Shepard _did it for me, I'm sure we'll see others begin doubting the... _validity_... of their position.' Anticipating Shepard's obvious response, Aria continued as the human's mouth opened. 'Don't worry, I'm not going to shout it out. _Yet, _anyway. You and I see things in a different way, human. I'll wait a few years until Artus' name is ground into nothing, _then _start the rumours that you were acting on my command.'

'How can I know that?'

'You can't,' Aria said coldly. 'But that's the price of dealing with me. I can tell you now that that's what I'll do, it's up to you if you want to believe me or not.'

Silence.

For several long seconds, the pair stared at each other, Shepard clearly calculating the pros and cons of Aria's proposal. It was a good deal, Aria knew - far better than the other options she had planned for Shepard.

Eventually, Shepard took a deep breath, and spoke clearly. 'I'll do it.'

Aria nodded. Of _course _she would. 'Excellent. It's been a pleasure as always, Shepard.' Feeling generous, she smirked and added, 'And a word of advice: enjoy Thessia while you can before those bitches make you hate the place.'

Enjoying Shepard's bemused look, Aria cut the call, and gestured Artus' daughter - currently gyrating on a pole to the side of her lounge - over to her.

It was a _good _day to be Queen.

* * *

Faith scowled, and glared at the empty air above her wrist for a second, before clearing her face.

She had no doubt Aria was correct that this _Artus _would be as bad as Aria suggested: the pirate was not stupid enough to lie to Shepard in something like this, but to destroy her reputation for holding inconvenient opinions? For an asari criminal she was forced by disgusting necessity to deal with more than once?

The whole day had left her feeling _helpless. _Liara was with Matriarch Rania, discussing the T'Soni estate fortunes; discussions Shepard had volunteered to sit out, figuring she should instead spend the time learning all she could about asari legal systems for when the prosecutors of Benezia finally decided to call on them.

The reading had been frustratingly vague: Liara was correct that for some crimes, proof and punishment was very clean cut. But for Benezia's unusual charge, so much relied on the interpretation of Benezia's own actions by a group of people whose position, apparently, was dependent only on the fact that they had lived for a long time rather than any actual training, experience or qualification. One of whom she now had the task of humiliating in public.

But that was a problem for later.

Alien legal systems aside, her request to Shiala earlier in the day had left a bad taste in her mouth.

Cold, hard, practicality had dictated she ask the question. Indoctrination, that terrifying process that - she knew from the Prothean beacon - had been amongst the Reapers' most deadly weapons, was shrouded in absolute mystery.

Faith dropped into her chair and pushed aside the stack of pads concerning Benezia's trial, instead retrieving her personal datapad, and calling up her private messages.

The sickly asari, limping on her cane without a word of complaint, stuttering almost pitifully at times, was the only person to have successfully recovered from indoctrination.

Shepard recognised a fighter in Shiala - Liara said that the commando was uniquely gifted in her mastery of the meld and as such often taught the skill to youths, but at her core Shiala was a soldier, driven by duty, forged by combat, just like Shepard herself.

Did she have any right to play on what she knew was that damaged, but still intact, sense of duty? The asari had committed some horrible crimes - and not all, she had hesitantly admitted, were done under the influence of her own indoctrination. Benezia had ordered her guard to do some things all knew were illegal, but done anyway through loyalty to the matriarch. If it was simply demanding Shiala continue helping Zhu's Hope as she had been, or being incarcerated, the question would be simple. But for the asari to further risk her health in such a manner was something else entirely, and brought back unpleasant memories of Project Overlord... experiments she had allowed on an unwilling - un_knowing _- subject for a tactical advantage.

Quashing the memories and scrolling through the messages displayed before her, Faith finally found the one that allowed her to ask the question to Shiala with any sense of justification, and gave a tiny smile as she read over the now familiar words.

_Shepard,_

_Collector Base fascinating. Much of interest. Much not: surprising amount of obsolete technology. Ancient computers running machines we don't understand. Would like to... not important._

_Found what I believe is key to Reaper control of Collectors. Will be examining further. Suspect it will assist understanding of indoctrination, possibly husk creation and control process._

_Also, understand you are provoking war effort. Thought you should know, salarians respond well to hard evidence. Gather more._

_Mordin._

If Shiala agreed to the tests, Faith would send her to the salarian. Whilst she knew deep down that Cerberus were likely further along with their studies, and could probably make better use of Shiala, she also knew they would be brutal, and the asari had suffered enough already. Mordin had a very strict code of ethics, and would ensure Shiala was treated as well as possible, in the circumstances.

Deciding to wait until Shiala gave a decision before messaging Mordin, she flagged the message for easier finding later on, then stood and stretched, wondering when Liara would return, and if she had time for another exercise session. It felt _amazing _to push herself in full gravity - the low artificial gravity on board both the Broker's ship and the _Normandy _left her feeling uncomfortably soft, though she had enjoyed her recent sessions with Vega, the man even more obsessed with honing himself than she was.

As if answering her thoughts, a soft tone sounded throughout the house, notifying her somebody was waiting to be let in.

_Finally!_

With an anticipatory smile, Faith made her way to the door and gestured at the panel to open it.

Over twelve years as a soldier had drilled a lot of hard knowledge and unshakeable habits into Shepard.

_Always check your corners._

_Never let the enemy dictate terms of engagement._

_There is no such thing as a coincidence._

Shepard's body was honed and practiced in combat, and a history of training, instinct and hard experience led her to trust her gut, whatever the circumstances.

And so it was that less than a second after she opened the door, the gun holstered at her side was drawn, the barrel pointed directly between the eyes of Matriarch Aethyta.

* * *

_**A/N: **Thank you Jay8008 and Vector 71 for the encouragement on this one - it took a while to get it the way I wanted, hopefully the next chapter will come a little faster!_

_The events regarding Shiala are from chapter 25 of Parallel Lives._


	39. Chapter 39

There was always something uncomfortable about threatening an asari.

Galactic perception of the people was very thorough - peacekeepers, diplomats, wise and "good". It was an image cultivated and promoted by the asari themselves, and most other species who saw their race as one to aspire to.

There was certainly a lot of truth in it. But Shepard had fought in the darkest corners of the galaxy long enough to know that _everybody _was represented there.

And whilst it was rare that she fought them, leaving her inevitably uncomfortable, one thing was always true. Asari were _not _easy prey_._

Aethyta did not hesitate when Faith raised her gun. Lighting up with biotics, _lightning _fast, a hand flickered up and slapped pistol out of her grip, the other blasting Shepard from her feet with a brutal wave of energy, sending her crashing onto a small table and landing in a pile of shattered glass, shards of decorative metal and splintered wood.

She scowled at the stabbing pain in her back, but before Aethyta had taken a second step into the house Faith lashed out with a foot, catching the asari in her knee and forcing her to stumble, biotics flickering.

_Biotics need focus, co-ordinated muscle movements, keep them off guard._

What seemed like an ancient voice; one of her old drill instructors, ran through her mind, and with an angry snarl her hand curled over a fistful of broken glass and debris - slashing her palm with a distant pain - which she dashed at the asari's face, instinct causing the alien to bring a defensive hand up, biotics totally dropping at the distraction.

Faith did not stop to consider what Aethyta was doing here. The instincts of a soldier would not allow it; Aethyta had engaged hostility, which made her an _enemy. _She was a threat to Liara, and a second's hesitation would mean disaster.

Following her handful-of-debris distraction, Faith leapt to her feet and seized the back of the asari's neck with her bloody hand. With a yank, she pulled the alien's head down and toward her even as the other fist surged upward into Aethyta's chin. The asari's head snapped backward, sending her backpedaling senselessly into a richly decorated couch - toppling it over as it fell with her.

Not pausing in her momentum, Shepard hurdled over the furniture, booted foot coming down hard on the asari's arm, causing her to bark in pain. Faith answered with a furious growl, and the boot came back up high, fully intending to stomp back down on Aethyta's throat...

When the asari, with deft grace, caught Faith's foot, briefly flared in blue light and threw the soldier into the opposite wall. Faith crashed into the hard wall before hitting the floor back-first - showered by the wreck of a decorative painting - driving her breath and senses from her.

_No!_

Through muscle memory alone, she rolled to her feet before the thought even occured to do so - and, after shaking her head clear, regarded the asari who was also rising unsteadily, biotics freshly aglow.

Not allowing her the chance, Faith again charged in, launching a rapid series of punches that forced the asari back; most landing on her increasingly bruised face, swelling both eyes, forcing her backwards... though she did not go down, eventually lowering her head and dove in, wrapping her arms around Faith's shoulders, turning the brawl into a mad wrestle.

She was _strong!_

Faith tried to grapple her to the floor, expecting an easy win - asari were usually physically weak, relying on biotics or weapons rather than brute force.

But Aethyta seemed perfectly at home with _dirty _fighting, driving a knee up into Faith's stomach as she pushed, slamming both into the wall, the sound of destroyed furniture seeming far away in the face of the _threat._

With another angry hiss Faith felt that _intoxicating _rush of power that seemed to pulse when she was fighting, lowering her head and _heaving _the asari into the far wall. Instantly pressing her advantage Shepard attacked, launching machine gun jabs into the alien's stomach. In the background, an absurdly cheerful tone sounding as a sensor was accidentally activated which opened a side door into another section of the house.

Shepard pulled back for a moment, peripheral vision noting a statue she could use as a weapon-

When Aethyta, face bloodied and torn into a mask of rage, slammed her forehead into Faith's nose.

A nova exploded in the centre of her face, blinding as her vision flashed bright white.

Surprised by the brutal attack, Faith stumbled backwards, feeling the asari gain confidence, a brutal kick to the gut launching her into the newly opened room, again toppling her to the floor, tearing down a hanging tapestry depicting Athame in a loving embrace with another asari.

Coughing, feeling blood run across her lips from her foe's unexpected assault, Faith grabbed the bar from which the now tattered tapestry once hung and scrambled across the room on all fours...

When she felt a massive weight land on her back, forcing her to the floor again.

_She's like a damned krogan!_

It wasn't often Faith fought a fighter like... well... _herself. _It took a certain _brutality _to fight in unarmed melee with the intent to _really _hurt an opponent, that not many people had. Batarians - _monsters _- seemed to manage it no problem, krogan could...

But as tough as she was, the asari's movements were growing sluggish from the beatings she had taken. Faith had no trouble bucking the woman from her back, swinging the bar around in a hope to do at least _some _damage before she could get a decent position for a more deadly blow.

The angle was awkward, the bar barely grazing Aethyta, but it hit directly in the temple, sending the asari sprawling backwards, smashing yet another table.

Seeing her opportunity, Faith stumbled to her feet, managing to knock over a lamp as she gained her balance.

Aethyta was lying on her back, clutching her head, _groaning._

Still gripping the heavy bar, scraps of an ancient piece of artwork hanging from its length, Faith stalked across the room, anger pulsing through her. It was unlikely Aethyta would be able to use her biotics after such a head wound, and she had already sensed the matriarch was tiring.

Just as she reached the asari, Aethyta blinked - rage clearing from her eyes - then instantly raised her hands, face already starting to puff up as she lay on the wrecked table.

'Wait! Wait!'

Faith paused above her, blood-pounding battle-rage replaced by something she recognised in herself... _much _more deadly than anger. That cold, ruthless, _emptiness, _that would dictate this asari could and would _die_ without a regret if Faith decided it.

She scowled and spat a mouthful of blood that had flowed down from her smashed nose onto the floor, speaking harshly. 'No sudden moves. Why are you here?'

'I'm not here to fight!'

Faith raised an eyebrow. 'You attacked me the second you walked in here.'

Aethyta gave a tiny cough, blood dripping from her lips. She slowly pulled herself into a seated position, each move carefully monitored by Faith.

'I'd say it was-' Another cough, 'self defence... but I'm in no position to argue.' She gestured to a bag slung across her shoulder. 'May I?'

Faith nodded, on edge, ready to strike out with her bar if she tried anything.

Slowly, Aethyta slowly out... _a bottle?_

'Ah... want a drink, Shepard?'

* * *

'She asked you to go _back_?'

'No, not to them. She said she knows someb...body else who is exploring indoctrination, and that I could help.'

_Goddess... _the faltered word strikes like a piercing blade, that knowledge that this is all _my _fault...

When I first saw Shiala limp on her cane, heard her stutter, a true wave of guilt and shame washed over me for my _cowardice _in how I treated her, unable to tell her that she did _not _have to subject herself to those horrible tests, because at some deep, cold, calculating level I knew that if she _could _help us understand indoctrination, some good might yet come of her suffering.

And yet, I was unable even to reassure her of _that_. Unable to offer her whatever she needed as she subjected herself to the experiments, unable to justify myself, and instead wallowed in indecision, leading to... _this._

_Coward..._

And Faith wants her to return.

I can see the reasoning behind her request, I truly can, but whenever something like this happens I am reminded that, as much as she _has _changed, at her core lies something that allows her to look suffering in the eye, and somehow not just accept but _justify _it, if there is a greater good to be had.

I know that she fels empathy, compassion and regret for it all; I have seen the feelings, even _felt _them, so strong at times I want to weep. But whether it is something innately part of her, or has been beaten into her the tragedies she has endured, she _can _see past it.

It is something I simply cannot do, or justify to myself.

And the most sickening part is, I know with disgusting certainty, that it is something we will _need _during the Reaper war.

And yet... in my work such actions - if not exactly like this then at least comparable - are carried out at my will. People suffer and die, so more still can live.

But I am distanced from it, and do not have to see it myself.

I see numbers, text on a screen, hear disembodied voices run through distorters.

And that is easier.

I do not think I could not look those people in the eye and make the same request.

I do not see the results of my actions, standing before me as Shiala is now.

_Does that make me worse?_

But I trust that Faith made the right decision. That she has a plan beyond simply subjecting Shiala to such disgusting violation.

She _has _to.

Looking at Shiala, hobbling slowly along the path...

I could not ask that of her. My friend and mentor, who was at times more a mother to me than Benezia herself.

_How much will this war cost us?_

She looks at me, with sickly green eyes, and gives a pallid smile that stabs another pang of guilt deep into my stomach. Swallowing down a rush of uncomfortable remorse, I return a soft smile.

'Don't worry about me, Liara. I told her I would think ab...b...bout it.'

I reach over, and touch her free hand. 'Whatever you decide, Shiala, know that this time I will not abandon you. Whatever you need, I... Faith and I will ensure you get it.'

Her smile turns at once sad and reassuring. 'You didn't abandon me, Liara, I asked something of you that I knew you could not give.'

I am not sure I believe her. Or... or that she could believe that herself. 'Still, I apolo-'

'Enough, girl!' A hint of that devious humour I know forms a core of her personality shines through with the words, drawing an involuntary smile across my own face as she continues. 'I'll hear no more of it from you. Not until we've cleared your mother's name, at least.'

After a second, I nod. 'Very well.'

Looking around the calm grounds, the evening twilight casting the familiar sights in delicate hues of blue and purple, a sense of peace descends across us.

Matriarch Rania spent most of the day excitedly informing me - and Shiala who also attended - of the investments and changes she made to the estate. For the most part she kept things as they were under mother's guidance, though she has opened up many of the educational programs held here to accommodate more young maidens who wish to spend their youths in a manner more productive than the usual mercenary or bar work, something she correctly assumed I would support given my own path.

'Liara?' Shiala's anxious voice breaks my contemplation, and I follow her pointed finger to our living quarters.

The door is open.

Immediately both of us falter, suspicious. It is far too cold for Faith to have left the door open on purpose.

My heart begins to hammer into my chest in panic.

_No, she must be well, maybe the door is broken, or... or... _

At an unspoken command we approach slowly, silently, Shiala surprisingly light on her feet considering her ailment.

_Goddess, please, let her be ok!_

The sight through the door has me gasp quietly. A small table is broken on the floor, and the tight space of the entrance gives the general impression of a fight having taken place.

_I cannot lose her, not now, not like this!_

Both Shiala and I light up with biotics, though I see Shiala's sparking brightly at the tips of her body, indicating the lack of control she mentioned. Before I can say anything, she scowls at herself, light fading, and pulls out a small pistol with her free hand. I would rather she not risk herself at all, but if somebody came for Faith, and actually managed to _best _her in combat, I will need all the help I can get.

A quiet tinkling sound, of a dropped glass not breaking, sounds from beyond one of the two doors in the room.

Nodding at Shiala, who is already making her way to that door, we prepare ourselves.

_Please, let this just be an accident, or... anything!_

The door opens before us.

We spin in and-

_What?!_

_I... did not expect this..._

Faith and... _is that Matriarch Aethyta?_... are sitting on the floor, at opposite ends of a broken table, an unmarked bottle of liquor sitting upon it and each with a small glass in their hand... _staring _at each other.

My breath catches at the state they are in - Faith's nose looks twice its normal size, ugly purple markings blotching her skin. Aethyta, on the other hand, looks as though somebody hit her in the face with a biotic warp... _what... what is happening?_

Two pairs of eyes look up - _Goddess, what happened to them!? _- and immediately fill with an identical embarrassment.

From my side, a shocked whisper sounds, barely registering in the face of the sight before me. '_You?_'

Both mouths open at once, then after a second, they speak together.

'...I can explain.'

* * *

'...I can explain,' Faith blurted out, suddenly realising the absolutely _ridiculous _nature of the situation she was in.

She glanced around the room, noticing as if for the first time that a fair amount of furniture had been destroyed or knocked over. There was one empty bottle of whatever foul substance the pair had been consuming lying on the floor, and another half-empty on the table between her and Aethyta.

She put down the glass in her hand, careful not to spill any of its contents... not like that would particularly matter if she made a mess, considering the shattered table currently had no legs and the top was sitting directly on the floor.

As were she and the asari opposite her.

The matriarch, for her part, looked rather pleased with herself, leaning back and tossing back her drink in one with a wide grin across her face.

_God, this is embarrassing..._

Faith stood up, and quickly crossed to Liara, wondering how the _hell _she was going to explain a trashed house and strange asari in the living room.

Liara looked absolutely mortified.

'Faith... what...' her head tilted to look at Aethyta. 'Is that...?'

'I can explain,' Faith said again, as if it would help.

'I can't _wait _to hear this.' Shiala, standing behind Liara, said with an amused but cautious grin as she holstered a pistol, eyes never leaving Aethyta.

_Does she know?_

Faith took a breath, and gestured back to the asari still sitting comfortably on the floor, deciding the direct approach would be best. 'This... is Aethyta. She showed up here a couple of hours ago. We... ah... _talked, _and she's... well...' She drew in another breath, and took one of Liara's hands, catching her concerned eyes. 'She's your sire.'

'I told you, dickbag, it's _father_.' Aethyta prompted with a scowl.

'_Sire_,' Faith repeated more forcefully. No matter how many times Aethyta had explained it, father was a _male _term, and it just felt _weird _to call a female by the word. Sire wasn't much better, but it felt at least a _little _more natural to her.

She looked at Liara, concerned about the reaction. With all that had been going on with Benezia, the revelation would surely-

'I know.'

Three surprised faces turned to the maiden, whose own face was unreadable... if still a little bemused at the whole situation.

'You...' Faith began, then sighed. 'Of course you do.'

Liara nodded, looking unsurprised. 'I _am _an information broker, Faith, and not an entirely poor one. I noticed that she would pay close attention to me whenever I visited her bar on Illium. I... I could not simply assume her interest was harmless.' She tilted her head. 'Though... why have you come here now? Surely your spying would be easier done from a distance?'

The matriarch's face was twisted into frustration as she shrugged. 'You know babe, nobody likes a know-it-all.'

'I am not a...' Liara dropped her head, pinching the bridge of her nose, then looked around. 'Goddess Faith, what _happened _here?'

Shepard winced, very aware of just how bad things looked. 'I... ah... didn't trust Aethyta's motivations. The last time I saw her she was bartending on Illium, then she just _showed up _a couple of hours ago.'

A pleasant chime echoed through the room as Aethyta tapped the side of the bottle with her glass. 'Hey, I brought booze!'

Frowning, Faith ignored her and continued. 'With all that's been going on, I decided caution was the best option.'

'You stuck a _gun _in my face, soldier girl. That's a bit more than _caution_.'

Liara's eyes widened, and Faith scowled at the floor, feeling slightly ashamed. She had been on edge from her call with Aria, and was expecting Liara... her reaction was probably a _little _over the top, but with all the warnings she was receiving about the unusual nature of asari politics and courts, she did not think it was _totally _unreasonable. Plus, Aethyta had thrown the first punch. 'I wasn't going to risk anything. Anyway, we... _argued_.'

'At which point you destroyed the house?' Liara prompted.

'It's not...' Faith glanced around again and decided denial was useless. 'Erm... maybe a little bit. I'm really sorry Liara, I think I can fix most of this...'

The asari shook her head. 'I am not concerned about the furniture, Faith, I...'

She reached out and gently touched Faith's _very _tender nose, voice softening. 'Are you ok? I was _worried_...'

Faith closed her eyes, leaning into the delicate touch. _What did I do to deserve her?_ 'I'm really sorry Liara, things got a bit... out of control. I didn't mean to worry you.'

A loud and obvious throat clearing from the floor snapped the lovers from their daze. Glancing over to Aethyta, Faith noticed she looked amused, despite having both eyes heavily bruised, one lip split and a cut across her forehead that was caked in dry blood. 'Admiring my handiwork kiddo? Nothin' like a Tuchanka kiss when you're in a pinch.'

With an angry glare at Aethyta, Faith again felt her nose throb painfully. The brawl had been bad enough, but after the ex-bartender had produced the bottle, things had steadily gotten more... _strange_, cautious drinking leading to questions... and _anger._

'You did not answer my question.' Liara said quietly but with a voice full of steel, staring at Aethyta. 'Why did you come here?'

For the first time, Aethyta actually looked uncomfortable, closing her eyes and drawing in a deep breath. Eventually she stood up and crossed to Liara, all traces of mirth gone from her face.

'Look kid, I know... hell, your girlfriend made it _very _clear that I've got no right to be here.' She glanced to Shiala, who had taken a seat on one of the few intact chairs, resting her leg. 'I'm glad _you _came though, didn't think my message got through...'

Faith cleared her throat expectantly. Though the hot, uncontrolled anger drawn from suspicion had faded when they stopped fighting, when Aethyta had explained her real motivations it had been replaced by a much more _dangerous, _icy rage that Aethyta had hidden herself from Liara for so long, _spied _on her, and only _now _wanted to come and reclaim some of the responsibility that should have been hers for the last _century_.

She had _never _been there for Liara, when her mother had pushed her away, when she had become ever more isolated in her work, when she had been alone after Shepard's... death... when she had almost lost herself on Illium... instead Aethyta had sat back, and _watched. _

Faith's fists curled into themselves in anger again. She had decided to give Aethyta a chance to explain herself _to Liara _at least, to see if her explanation was any more satisfactory. As poor a parent as Aethyta was, Faith had no right to deny Liara the chance to even know her.

Aethyta grimaced. 'Yeeeah. I... was _supposed _to do the same thing I've done for the past few years. Keep an eye on you from a distance, you know, let them know if anything weird happened. But...'

She shook her head in frustration, then jerked her thumb in Faith's direction. 'She's right. I've been a crappy father, if I even deserve _that _title. I want to make it up to you, kiddo. That's all there is to it. The matriarchs can shove their covert plans right up their prissy little asses, I'm not going to let Nezzy's name get dragged through the dirt, let _you _lose what's rightfully yours.'

The matriarch glanced between the three other faces in the room, judging the icy expressions on all of them before swallowing. 'But it seems like you've known who I am for a while now, so I'll leave it up to you if you believe me. Say the word, and I'll see myself out. I'll go back to pretending to spy on you, you go back to pretending not to notice and the matriarchs go back to pretending they could ever actually _get _to you if they wanted.'

With a small smirk, Aethyta pointedly glanced at the soldier and rubbed her puffed up, bruised lip.

_Note to self: don't let Liara out of sight on this planet..._

Faith took Liara's hand again, pain shooting through her hand as the damaged skin across her sore knuckles split, but not letting it touch her features... while the maiden's face creased into uncertainty.

Faith knew it would be safer to make Aethyta leave, but she was Liara's _family_... possibly the _only _direct relative she had, even if asari saw the relationship slightly differently than a human would. If she could give Liara even the _smallest _amount of that happiness a family could give, then was it worth it? Worth forgiving the years and years of not just neglect, but also active work in involving herself in Liara's life, yet never revealing herself?

It... was not Faith's decision to make. She would support Liara in whatever she chose to do, just as Liara did for her.

'I...' Liara began slowly, looking to Faith, her beautiful eyes still uncertain.

_Could I say no to knowing any of my family again, however they neglected me?_

Aethyta _did _sound so genuinely regretful about her part, never refuting Faith's accusations, simply trying her best to justify them with excuses that she could tell the asari herself was not satisfied with.

_It's not my decision..._

But it was a decision that Liara clearly wanted to _share _with her, and in the asari's eyes Faith could see that open trust between them... and she was reminded as to how their lives had come together, on the tight family that was the crew of the _Normandy_, the men and women Faith had brought together and led through tragedy and victory alike... that family she had welcomed Liara into not once but twice now.

_She wants me to be part of __**this **__decision... part of __**her **__family..._

Faith knew what to do.

With a small, reassuring smile, she looked deep into Liara's gaze... and nodded.

Liara immediately nodded back in return, warm smile on her face and relief in her eyes.

Turning together back to Aethyta, who actually looked _nervous_, andLiara made the announcement. 'Okay... you can stay.'

Aethyta's face cracked into a truly honest, _open _smile that despite everything, lifted Faith's spirits, filling her with a hope that the decision might bring Liara happiness. For all Aethyta's actions, that was a smile that came from the _heart, _and at some level Faith understood, to be accepted by _family_. After a few seconds, that emotional smile shifted into something more devious, and she hefted the bag still slung across her shoulder, causing it to jingle pleasantly.

_She has __**more?!**_

'I don't know about anyone else, but I think I need a drink!'

* * *

'So... I suppose you've got questions.'

_Questions..._

I have _many. _

Enough to fill the entire evening.

Questions for everybody in the room.

Even for Shiala. She knew Aethyta. She knew she was my father... why did she not tell me? _Goddess... _they even _met, _when Shiala and I visited her bar together on Illium!

_How many people... how many friends and teachers, have known and not told me?_

Biting back the nauseous feeling rising up, I glance over to see her and Faith across the room... the pair practising what appear to be martial arts that Shiala can readily perform with her injury.

_My love..._

I want nothing more than to just... _forget..._ all of this, just for a moment, to melt into her arms and feel that _safety _only she can give me, knowing she will not judge, will not demand anything from me...

But I cannot. Not yet.

Faith has given me some privacy with Aethyta, and I need to know... _what?_

Could I ask about _her? _Why she left me as a newborn? Why she stayed away? What she is like as a person, beneath the gruff and humorous exterior?

Could I ask about her work? _Spying _on me, for the asari government? Why she would take a job like that... and why would she carry it out, not telling me?

I look at her battered face, quirked in curiosity. She does not _seem _to be in any pain, though she _has _consumed a significant amount of alcohol.

She is my _father. _The one who loved Benezia enough to risk the shame that could be heaped upon them both by siring a _pureblood _child.

She... does not look like me.

_Did I expect her to? _That is not how asari reproduction works, she was just the map for randomising my genes, there is technically nothing of her _in _me, though if that were truly the case then surely the stigma of pure asari unions would not be so great...

I shake my head, then sip at the glass Aethyta offered me.

_Goddess, this is foul!_

She gives a wan smile at my expression, nervous in a manner most unlike the brash bartender I thought I knew. So many questions...

_Questions..._

'Why is the asari government watching me?'

_Oh..._

I did not mean to ask that, but I _have _been curious as to their exact motivations... _is this drink stronger than I thought?_

Aethyta scowls, and drinks down her entire glass in one mouthful. 'Good question. Short answer, it's 'cos they're a bunch of idiots. I've seen what you've been up to. Seen that Reaper shit your girlfriend sent out. Seems to me like they should be listenin' to you, but instead they sent me to keep an eye on you.'

She refills her glass, and looks at it in distaste. I know that the government is worried about me, but I still cannot understand _why..._

'Look, there's something you're gonna find out pretty soon, but I might as well be the first one to tell you. Consider it my fatherly duty, or whatever.'

_Fatherly duty... _the words sound so strange. She is my father... my _family. _I have had friends, since mother and I grew apart, some so close that they are family in all but blood. But to know that she is truly my _parent, _and that she is offering the kind of knowledge parents give their children...

It is _warming_, in a way I know it should not be. She is a practical stranger to me, and although Faith is busy I can still see that she is keeping a cautious eye on Aethyta, not trusting her yet... quite rightly.

And yet, it is still _warming_.

'You might think the asari are a clever bunch. And you'd be right. We've managed to shape the galaxy for the better in more ways than one, and frankly the others would be lost without us.'

She looks into her glass, reflection swimming in the pale blue liquid.

'But don't for one second believe that somehow that makes us _better. _Truth is, I was sent to watch you because they're _terrified_. You think we're the big, open, democratic society that everybody else wants to be?'

I nod, slowly._ What is she getting at?_

'And _you're _a damned information broker, with dirt on more people than I want to know about. That's how thorough it is. I was sent to watch you because _any _asari out there who looks like she's rocking the boat, gets put under surveillance. Mostly it's just tiny stuff, a few matriarchs on a planet keeping an eye on the _thousands _of maidens and matrons who are turning into merc leaders, becoming business executives, whatever. No way in hell we could keep track of everybody, and we don't want to. But you...'

She shakes her head again. 'Daughter of one of our most influential matriarchs, suddenly on a Spectre's crew, saving the Citadel... _then _somehow pulling yourself up the ranks on Illium faster than just about anyone they can remember, always at the centre of pretty fundamental shifts. Too many people preparing for war, with you behind it. So they send _me _to decide if you're dangerous.'

_What!?_

'I am preparing the galaxy for the Reapers! How could they think I...' I shake my head angrily. 'Goddess, what possible danger could I be?'

Aethyta snorts. 'You've got _no _idea. I've had to deter them from assassination _twice _just because they thought you gave the asari a bad _reputation, _never mind these plans you seem to be behind.'

'Y... you...'

'Yeah, I stopped 'em. Not gonna let you be another victim of the asari government's bloodsoaked campaign of making our species _look _good_._'

'What do you mean?'

'Kid, they'd have you killed in a _second _if they believed the galaxy thought less of the asari as a whole because of you. Same with _any _asari out there.'

My mind runs blank. I knew there were surveillance activities, of course, but that they would so readily kill our own people just for that...

'Anybody?' The quiet word slips through my lips... how many asari have died because of this?

So many people die for so many reasons: war, accident, disease and _more, _but for an asari to die because her own government decides her an _inconvenience?_

Aethyta hums in agreement. 'More than you want to know.'

Faith and Shiala - sparring now concluded - have come to stand nearby, listening politely. Suddenly frowning, Faith speaks coldly. 'I don't buy it. What about someone like Aria T'Loak? Surely she's _much _worse than Liara?'

Father... _can I call her that?..._ snorts again. 'I'm not saying they stop people from doing nasty stuff, human. I'm saying they stop people from making the asari _look _bad. When somebody says _Aria_, what do you think?'

'Criminal.' Faith replies instantly.

'Use your brain!' Aethyta snaps in return. 'Smart. Beautiful. Deadly. Ruthless. You think shit like that, right?'

Faith nods slowly.

'And who benefits from that? She does, obviously... but it means every time somebody looks at an asari, they see a little blue girl. Maybe she's cute. Maybe she's got brains, maybe she's waving her ass on a pole. _Maybe _some idiot thinks they can take advantage of her. But there's this little voice at the back of their mind telling them that _Aria _is a little blue girl just like her, and _Aria _would turn their skin inside out, slaughter their family and sell their kids into slavery if she decided she didn't like how they looked. Suddenly, that little blue girl's a _lot _more scary. Get me?'

Could they be so ruthless? Allow such a disgusting criminal to continue her activities because she is good for our _reputation_?

Faith nods again, this time in understanding. 'I suppose that makes sense. She might be a criminal, but she makes the asari look stronger, so they allow her.'

'Exactly,' Aethyta replies with a scowl. 'Fucking stupid if you ask me... which you did. So we keep ourselves on top like that. Make sure we're always the peacekeepers, but let _everybody _know that if they fuck with us, they're dead. Probably shouldn't be tellin' you this Shepard, but I'm too old to care about _protocol _and you need to know if you're gonna help Liara.'

'W...' This is all so much, I knew the asari government monitored people: that is why mother is on trial, after all, but that they are so callous about simply _killing _those who they think a threat... who are they to decide that?! 'W... what about mother?'

'The trial you mean?'

I nod wanly. I knew there would be a political element to the trial, but so _much_... could we even influence the outcome?

'They want to make a big show of it, to make sure the galaxy's watching them talk about how one of our best managed to turn rogue. But worst of all, the ones _prosecuting _her are thinking about _themselves _as well, even with all the other shit. They're on the lookout for the asari as a whole, but damned if that'll have them working _together. _They all want a piece of what's rightly yours, kid, so watch out. Some of 'em might get it by having Nezzy's name dragged through the dirt. Others, her old supporters, will get it by makin' sure she's acquitted so their _own _reputations aren't hurt by association.'

_This is all too much... mother... Shiala... now my father... _

And now I learn that I cannot even expect a _fair _trial?

Faith voices my concerns from her position behind me, one hand resting reassuringly on my shoulder. 'Does that mean our presence here isn't going to change anything?'

With a shrug Aethyta replies, looking genuinely apologetic. 'Sorry babe, I'd tell you if I knew. But I'll tell you this. It's weird enough that they're doing this _now, _just after that bombshell you dropped on the galaxy, which tells me that they're up to something. I've got no idea what it is though... and I'm not sure I'll be able to get it out of them after meeting you like this.'

Faith sits down beside me, _close_, warm leg pressing against mine as Aethyta continues. 'But they're ok with the pair of you being here, otherwise you'd be dead in a ditch somewhere, so I'm guessing they _want _you to speak for Nezzy. And if they're allowing that, it means you _will _have the chance to sway them. We're still a democracy, however much of a sham it's got underneath. If you put the better case and the prosecutors still decide to say Benezia was guilty, _they'll _lose their credibility.'

An uncomfortable silence drags out.

This is all so much to process... I thought I would be protecting mother's name... perhaps finally allowing myself space to grieve... I did not want to get caught in the middle of an argument that has so little to do with _her _and her actions!

A warm hand takes mine, skin rough but the touch as soft as ever... _reassuring._

_Thank you for being here..._

I do not know what to say.

This asari, _my sire, _has just told me more about how my people truly operate than over a century of living has shown me.

_Was I so naive?_

I knew that we are by no means the paragons of virtue many see us as, but I at least thought we _strived _for it, rather than simply pretending as the dirty truth was actively hidden by those supposed to be _wise_...

'Sorry kid, I probably should have eased you into that...' Aethyta's voice is a distant echo, and I wonder-

_No._

The information... hearing it like that, without any embellishment, was shocking... but _not _unknown. I knew nearly all of what she said as truth already, but simply refused to put it together into such a damning picture, wanting, _hoping _my people could be better...

_I will __**make **__them better._

My government might be as bad as any other, be it through their ignorance regarding the Reapers or their falsehoods on a galactic stage, but that does _not _mean this is a fact that cannot be changed.

Aethyta was right. The asari _are _a force for good in the galaxy, and can be so much _more. _

I cannot simply begin a campaign using the Broker's resources as a blunt tool; it will take years, _decades, _to make such a change, the correct people in the right places, and that will mean waiting until after the Reapers have been defeated so-

A light squeeze on my hand draws my attention back to the wrecked living room, all three other occupants looking at me curiously.

'Wasn't expecting you to be _smiling _at that, kiddo...' Aethyta begins, looking a little baffled.

Faith's dancing voice is full of mirth as she replies. 'That look means she's got a plan, and won't stop thinking about it until somebody distracts her.'

_Goddess... _a warmth rises to my cheeks as I shoot Faith an affectionate glance.

_You know me too well..._

Aethyta breaks into a grin, shattering the uncertain mood in the room. 'Well... unless Shepard wants to... _distract..._ you upstairs, how about we stop this miserable discussion, and I tell you about the time I took your mother to Tuchanka?'

* * *

Watching the pair of fine asses sway out of the room, Aethyta sat back with a satisfied smile, head spinning pleasantly.

_Nezzy and I created a masterpiece right there._

Liara had grown into a real pretty young woman, and while there was a _long _way to go before the girl treated her anything like a parent - mostly work on Aethyta's part to make up for everything she'd done - it _had _been nice to actually talk to her... hell to even _see _her, to get a proper look in person without the kid becoming suspicious. She was beautiful, managing to capture all of Nezzy's noble grace - not to mention that _rack _- without carrying it like a spoiled brat, and there was a deep strength and stubbornness that Aethyta liked to think she recognised a little of herself in.

Her gaze shifted over to the Spectre at Liara's side just before they disappeared up the stairs.

_Not too bad either, if you're into big girls..._

She felt a pleasant warmth at the memory of their brawl. It wasn't often she got to properly let loose, and the imminent threat of death always had her itching for a release. The human had a pair of wonderful _strong _arms and shoulders... there weren't many asari built like that, meaning she was stuck with either a flimsy lady or some male plumbing to deal with when she needed to get her rocks off... it wasn't often you got both in the same package.

_Good choice, kid._

She blinked, and kicked herself, alcohol clouding her brain. Properly meeting her daughter for the first time, then start perving on both her and her girl a couple of hours later... _real classy. _

With an awkward cough, she turned her gaze back to the room, to see Shiala staring at her.

_It's been a while..._

For a long moment, the two simply stared at each other. Nezzy's old guard had been fairly quiet for most of the evening, simply staring at Aethyta as if trying to bore through her skull with her gaze.

After some amount of time Aethyta couldn't properly judge, Shiala cracked into a small smile. 'You look like shit, Thyta.'

With a derisive snort, Aethyta replied, 'You're not doing too great yourself, green girl.'

As Shiala's eyes flashed with wicked humour, Aethyta felt herself relaxing a little at the familiar back-and-forth the pair used to share. The green asari leaned forwards, smirking. '_I_ got infected by an ancient plant monster. _You _got beaten up by a little human. I th...think you're getting old.'

'Bah, I let her win,' Aethyta replied, knowing that Shepard could quite easily have killed her if she really wanted to. But a girl didn't just go admitting that kind of thing. 'I couldn't just go beating up Li's girlfriend. Not good for the old first impressions.'

'And just showing up like this is?' The ex-commando's voice was still light, but Aethyta heard the caution just below the surface. 'Why did you really come back?'

With a sigh, Aethyta filled up both her and Shiala's glass, and in silence the pair drank them down. The human had knocked back a surprising amount of the stuff earlier without it seeming to affect her overmuch, and Aethyta knew now she wasn't kidding when she had come into her bar all those months ago, saying she _couldn't _get drunk. Being a paragon of asari wisdom, Aethyta had kept up with her _anyway_, not to mention what she had drunk with Liara and the others.

_Last one for me..._

'I told Liara the truth. I've not even been a shitty father to her. I've been nothing at all.'

Glancing up at the green skinned asari, she suddenly felt the need to vent to _somebody, _and a commando she once held an easy-going camaraderie with was about the best she could hope for. Shiala was also a trusted confidant of Benezia's - one of the few mutual friends the couple had shared, now Aethyta thought about it. _Couldn't stand most of Nezzy's stuck up accomplices... ha, and I'd have liked to see a couple of my buddies at one of her parties!_

Lost in memory, she spoke again, wisftul. 'I'm sure you know most of what was agreed. I'd get lost and let Nezzy get on with her life, as long as she let the kid go her own way when it came to it. Seemed like a good enough deal, any daughter of hers deserved better than _me _fucking up her life.'

A tiny blue baby flashed through her mind, gurgling happily, clasping her finger and inspecting it as if it held the answer to all of her little life's questions...

She had only seen the baby once before she'd left. _Any more, and it'd have been impossible..._

Her voice cracked at the memory. 'She deserved the fancy house, the... the best schools for that brilliant mind, anything she ever wanted... I couldn't give her any of that.'

'She needs more than money, Thyta,' Shiala whispered quietly.

'I know that!' she exploded in response, thinking of all those times she'd seen the girl come into her bar on Illium with empty eyes and empty heart, wishing like _nothing _else that she could fix it. 'That's why I came back! The promises I made don't mean shit if she's unhappy. It's not about me and Nezzy any more... hell, it never should have been in the first place.'

She shook her head angrily. 'Both of us, thousand years old and didn't know crap. I can't change what I've already done, but if there's anything I can do to help _here_, I'm gonna do it.'

The raging anger instantly burned out, replaced with a melancholy that sat deep in her gut, making her nauseous. 'I know I didn't deserve her letting me stay. But... she's given me a chance, and I'm gonna try to do it right. For whatever it's worth.'

The silence drew out again, until Shiala spoke quietly. 'I think she reg...g-gretted it, you know.'

'Huh?'

'Lady Benezia. She would-'

Aethyta slashed a hand in front of her face hastily, despite knowing it was already too late. 'Sorry babe, I don't want to hear it. It's ancient history now.'

Looking bemused for a second, Shiala eventually shrugged indifferently and sat back in her chair. 'If you wish.'

Disgruntled, Aethyta stood up.

'Where are you going?'

'Need some air,' she grunted, feeling her stomach churn again. 'Don't wait up, I might be a while.'

Seeing Shiala nod before reaching for her cane, Aethyta carefully made her way across the trashed front room and stumbled outside.

'Uuuuggh...'

_Damn alcohol resistant human..._

The soldier had even started _healing _faster than Aethyta, swelling across her nose nearly gone by the time she and Liara had headed to bed.

It didn't make Aethyta, whose entire _face _still ached all over and stomach was sore inside _and _out, feel any better... it made her feel uncomfortably _old._

_Damn human!_

Taking a deep and very cold breath, Aethyta glanced around herself. It had been over a century since she'd seen the place, and it was still beautiful, even covered in snow and nearly pitch darkness.

Shiala's comment about Benezia gnawed at her mind.

"_She regretted it, you know"_

_Damn! _Interrupting Shiala _then _had been the worst thing she could have done for her curiosity. What had she regretted? Booting Aethyta out? That decision had been as much her own as Nezzy's. They'd lasted a hell of a long time together - more than _most _asari couples ever did - but they'd both sensed that as they turned from matrons to matriarchs, what they wanted from life was diverging even more than normal.

Sure they had argued; it was practically the foundation of their relationship to disagree on things. But it usually led to both of them being a bit more enlightened, accepting the other's point of view, and best of all some _awesome _sex afterwards. But before little Liara was born, though, things had been... tense. The arguments were more gruesome passive-aggressive sniping than real blow ups, and led to Aethyta sleeping on the couch rather than entangled in her lover's arms. In hindsight she saw that it had been over for _years_, but neither of them had realised it until they had the one, _just _one, argument about Liara.

It had involved no shouting. No anger. Just... a realisation, that had torn Aethyta's heart in half. That they could not raise the girl properly if they were together, when they both wanted such different things. So Aethyta had agreed to leave, on the condition that Liara be given the chance to spread her wings when the time came, rather than be forced down whatever path Benezia wanted for the girl.

Had Benezia regretted not involving her in Liara's life? All she got for the trouble of over a century of loving and offering her life code to map little Liara by, was the occasional note about how Liara was doing at school, a photo every few years and hardest of all, a single missed call from the girl herself that it had taken every ounce of willpower she had not to return. Benezia had later tersely explained it was because she'd left her omni-tool lying around and Liara had been poking through her contacts. She _still _had the recording of the thirteen year old girl stuttering about wanting to know who she was in relation to her mother, trying to sound authoritative.

She took another breath, feeling her head begin to clear.

And now, a century or so on from that, and she was standing, drunk, on the girl's front porch, knowing she and her girlfriend were probably screwing upstairs.

Life was funny like that.

She had made the contact. And... Liara _wanted _her to stay. To get to know her.

After the uncomfortable explanation of just what the matriarchs were actually up to, the girl had been so _full _of questions Aethyta had tried her best to answer, Liara seeming to shift between businesslike drilling regarding her contact with the asari government, and an oddly childlike desire to know about her dad, and her mum... pretending that it wasn't important to her.

And with every single question she answered, Aethyta felt like she was adding another shining star into Liara's sky.

She smiled, happier than she'd been for decades.

Then her stomach heaved, and she vomited down the front of her dress.

* * *

'I... I suppose you wish to know why I did not tell you.'

I speak into Faith's bare chest, feeling it pleasantly rise and fall with her strong breath, my own heart slowly synchronising with her powerful beat. She has been so _accepting _over the past few hours, allowing me my curiosity and time to speak to Aethyta, but it is only natural her curiosity, her _care, _would have her wonder...

'I... _did _wonder, but guessed you had your reasons for not saying. If it's something you-'

'No, no!' I interrupt. Goddess, her care can be so _frustrating_! 'I should have known she would come, I have known she was following me for some time...'

I shake my head into her chest, enjoying her warm skin, her small, soft breast, the strong muscles beneath. 'I researched her background when my campaign against the Shadow Broker was nearing its conclusion... approximately three weeks before we assaulted his base. Finding that she is my...' I smile softly, knowing her preference for the word, '_sire, _was not difficult. It took a little more time to determine her job for the asari government, but I judged that she would be more... _sympathetic_ to me than any other.'

It was cold to think of her in such a way, but my work was too important to allow anything to get in my way, and _she _chose not to make the contact, just as much as I chose to pretend I did not know her.

'Why didn't you say anything? Or approach her?'

_Of course..._

'It... it was not important. I knew she would be more sympathetic to me than anybody else they could send, and if you had asked I would have told you, but there are so many little details to my work that you do not need to know about, this just seemed like...'

'Another one?'

I grimace at the tone of her voice; not cold or unkind, but with a tiny hint of... Confusion?_ Disappointment_?

'I... yes. Like I said it is not important, with everything else, I simply thought...' I trail off, unable to finish. _What _did I think? In the past few hours I learned so much about Aethyta, even things about mother I did not know... although I do not feel ready to call her my father - or sire if Faith insists - to have denied this seems so _meaningless _in hindsight!

_Silence_, for a moment, punctured with soft breaths and gentle strokes across my crests, comforting rather than sensual in the moment.

'It... used to be important to you, Liara.'

'W... what?' It was never a serious concern, there were always more important things, my studies, my work...

'On the first _Normandy_, it was one of the first things we ever talked about... you wondered why she wasn't around, and I... I said that you shouldn't assume the worst.'

_She remembers... _I am not surprised, I too remember every conversation we shared over those months, the memories some of my most precious, that kept me going through her death and my time on Illium, but...

'I... it was simply a topic for conversation, I did not mean to...' _What did I mean? _'I _was _curious, at one point, but I never felt a great desire to find out... the nature of asari mating means very often a fath-_sire _is not present when a child is raised because there is no true sharing of genes as with other species...'

The words sound hollow even to my own ears... do I believe that?

I had so many people around me as I grew up: mother, Shiala, Rania, so many other teachers... would another... a _father _have fitted in?

Especially one like Aethyta, such a difference to the staid surroundings of the wealthy estate and _proper _behaviour?

Faith's quiet voice continues, soft, comforting, 'If it's really not important I'll not push, Liara, but...' her body shifts, muscles rippling pleasantly against my skin, 'I get the feeling it's not as easy as that?'

'No... no...' What more can I say? _Should _I have told Aethyta I knew about her? Should I have told Faith, when I was truly convinced it was not even important to _me? _'I... am sorry, I... I feel like if I had talked to you then maybe I might have realised...'

Realised what? That this... _is _important, that Aethyta's presence has actually made me feel more at home here, despite me never having known her?

'Don't be sorry Liara, family can make us do... _odd_... things.' Her chest shifts again. 'I'm really glad you two actually got to talk though. I'm still not totally convinced by her, but it seems like she really does want to... I don't know, try? When she showed up...'

Her uncertain tone pulls a smile across my face, and I draw a hand across the tight ridges of her stomach, feeling the mood of the conversation shift. 'I cannot believe you fought for me like that.'

She huffs, and my smile widens. 'My human,' I tease, 'protecting me from the intruder... who happened to be my father...'

'_Sire._' I hear the mischief in her voice, and already know this will be an _endless _source of discussion... but I have other plans for her now, a moment of distraction from everything, to love and be loved...

'If you insist. It was very...' I slip my hand lower, dancing my fingertips along the tight curls below, and feel her breath begin to hitch._ 'Heroic._'

'I'm... sorry I trashed your house, Liara.'

I chuckle at her abashed voice, but will not let her distract me.

'You will have to think of a way to make it up to me...'

'Oh? I-'

Whatever she was going to say is interrupted by a _disgusting _noise floating up from below our window outside.

And after a second, both of us begin to laugh, and laugh, and _laugh_, stress of the day finally melting away into silly giggles.

* * *

_**A/N: **Thank you as always to Jay8008 and Vector 71 for all of the help with both substance and style, my writing would not be the same without you :-)_

_For a quick look to the future, I have one "fluff" type chapter planned as we frolic on Thessia, one (maybe 2) for the trial, and then the action will begin in proper!_

_My updates have slowed a little recently - it has been a little over a year since I published my first ever piece of fiction writing here, and the response has been incredible. Seeing so many views, favourites, followers and reviews never ceases to amaze me, and I want to again thank everybody who reads, (hopefully) enjoys and graciously gives feedback to my writing. It has been an amazing journey, thinking back over the last year - writing has become such a fulfilling pastime, though I've noticed recently the mad urge I had when I set out has died down a little... hence no more twice weekly updates! But in writing longer chapters and giving them longer to brew I'm learning a lot more about the writing process, and I hope you all continue to enjoy :-) _

_That said, I'll be making the attempt to keep chapters shorter once I'm finished with the Thessia "arc", which with any luck means faster updates!_

_Thank you all for staying with me on this journey!_


	40. Chapter 40

With a mischievous smirk, Faith glanced up from her datapad to her chrono, noting she had just five minutes until her self-imposed deadline was reached.

As usual, she had woken long before Liara and had spent the past three hours studying the state of galactic readiness for the war, sitting awkwardly on an outrageously extravagant couch across the room from the enormous, richly decorated bed.

For once, she came away from the reports feeling quite _pleased _with the way things were going. It was hardly the full-scale preparation she wished for, but Garrus noted that several of their long-term plans were beginning to come to fruition. Most militaries had begun expanding their fleets: whether this was a response to the Reaper data pack Faith had sent out, or the effect of what had become something of an unspoken arms race because of the leaked weapons technology, she did not especially care... the fact was it was being _done. _Trying to keep the peace between massive fleets was preferable to her than forcing small, peaceful, fleets to expand.

Not only that, but there had been a _huge _uptake from nearly every races' colonies, for another of their plans: to use Liara's resources to hire experienced, retired, military officers to form and train civilian militias, and eventually supply them with gear. Garrus was practically inundated with such requests, and Faith was eager to get back to the _Normandy _to help facilitate the process: the turian was doing an excellent job in fielding the response but getting things moving ultimately required the Shadow Broker's command.

To that end, Faith was also pleased to note that the matriarchs would see them in two days. The delay was... _frustrating... _but it not only gave her, Liara and Shiala time to discuss the finer points of what their defence would involve, it also gave Liara a little time to _relax_. The asari had, understandably, been on edge since landing on Thessia, and Faith planned to spend most of the coming day simply enjoying the beautiful estate, and each other's company.

Between Benezia, Shiala, Aethyta, as well as being home for the first time in decades, _and _the ever-present mantle of the Shadow Broker, Shepard knew Liara had a _huge _amount of stress heaped on her shoulders. But while she was happier with problems she could shoot, Faith still had a fair idea of how to help Liara relax for a while.

With a sigh and a fond smile, she regarded the sleeping asari.

_She's stronger than anybody gives her credit for._

So many people only saw the polite, measured speech, the shy demeanor, the moderate dress... and underestimated her. But there was true _strength _in Liara, not just in her astoundingly powerful biotics or great depths of intelligence, but in her unblinking determination and emotional endurance. She had been Faith's rock more than once, standing strong when all Shepard wanted to do was _stop_.

_Today, I will be your rock._

With another smile, Faith stood and silently crossed the room to the sleeping Liara, delighting in her tiny snores. She would be waking soon, and Faith had a surprise planned.

Slipping off the asari styled, cloak-like robe she had found in the bathroom and enjoying the cool air of the room on her body for a second, Shepard carefully climbed into bed beside her delightfully nude asari.

At the movement, Liara instinctively shuffled back into her human's warmth, washing a wave of affection over her.

As tempting as it was to simply envelop Liara in her arms and drift back to sleep until both woke naturally, she had other plans. As gently as she could, Faith began to manoeuvre Liara onto her back. She'd never done this before, but had woken up earlier with a deep _urge _between her legs that gave her the wicked idea.

Softly, careful not to wake Liara, Faith ran a hand across the wondrous curve of the asari's hip, up to brush against her breast, desiring nothing more than to cup that perfect weight, and feel it mould against her touch. She loved the texture of Liara's pebbled skin beneath her fingers; like the softest leather, just a couple of degrees cooler than her own body temperature but enough to send pleasant tingles through her senses.

At the contact Liara let out a long, slow breath, but did not wake as Faith continued to gently stroke down the appealing expanse of blue skin, eventually sliding the sheet away from their bodies and marvelling at the beauty before her. The room was gently lit by a single, massive, window that occupied most of a wall - the glass heavily tinted to allow only the faintest light in, casting the whole room in a beautiful violet hue.

The human smiled, drawing her hand back down to the slope of her asari's waist, leaning in to plant a light kiss on a sensitive neck... then brushed her mouth down to gently graze her teeth around Liara's collarbone. She did not want to wake the asari yet, but had no idea how long she could continue before her ministrations roused the asari's slumber.

With an involuntary carnal groan that jolted through Faith's senses, Liara rolled her chest up into the warmth of the human's mouth, the movement drawing apart her legs just enough so-

_Yes..._

Even as she began to massage the full breast with her warm mouth, Faith drew her hand down to the sensitive azure flesh between Liara's legs, a light pressure dipping into the dampness gathering there.

Still apparently asleep, Liara quietly groaned again at the touch, hips slowly shifting into the human's hand. For several languid minutes Faith continued to softly tease the sleeping asari, reveling in every tiny shift of Liara's body, every sensual noise dragged from her lips, until she felt confident enough to move to the next stage of her plan.

Reluctantly releasing Liara's breast with a quiet _pop, _Faith began to slowly manoeuvre down the bed, positioning herself so her head was gently resting between Liara's legs. The asari, seeming to miss the pressure across her body, began to stir, until Faith slowly locked her lips around the dark flesh before her, eyes flickering into the back of her head at the wonderful, alien taste.

It took just seconds for Liara to wake. Even as Faith continued her ministrations, she noticed Liara's toes begin to curl, her legs stretching drowsily... and delighted in the sounds Liara made as she came to her senses.

'Hmm... wha... Fa_-ith_?'

The asari's voice hitched on Faith's name as she flicked a particularly sensitive spot with her tongue, smiling at the pleasure dripping from Liara's voice. Ignoring the questioning tone, Faith took the offensive and pressed in further, drawing another wordless gasp from Liara's lips.

Shepard lost herself in the moment. Every sense lit up her body: the sounds of her lover's pleasure escaping her lips. The alien taste on her tongue, delicate and intriguing. Liara's legs clasping against her head, trembling. That amazing, not-quite-cinnamon scent, all the stronger with Liara's arousal. The view of her lover as she glanced up, head rolling backwards, back arching, breasts displayed proud to the ceiling.

It was _perfect_.

'F...Faith...?'

Liara's gasped out the questioning tone, still tinged with the remnants of her sleep and more than a little lust, and Faith looked up with a glistening mouth as she smiled coyly, humming directly where she knew it would drive Liara _wild _to hum_._ 'Hm?'

'What...'

Shepard's eyes flashed as she spoke directly into Liara's arousal, voice muffled as the asari squirmed. 'Do you want me to answer... or continue?'

'I... oh _Goddess..._' the cry escaped Liara's lips as Faith brushed against a particularly sensitive nub, and her smile widened as she lowered her eyes again.

'I thought so. Now, hold still...'

* * *

'Yes! You are doing it!'

Shepard grit her teeth in response to Liara's words, sweat breaking out across her forehead.

Her body _ached _in the most unusual places, unused to such exertion, but she was _determined _to see this through, and she narrowed her eyes, deep brown turning almost black in the shadow of her scowl.

'Yes Faith, just a little more, you have almost...' Liara's voice faded to a distant echo as she focused, until nothing else mattered other than-

'Gah!' Shepard gasped as a deep, painful twinge shot through her temple, jarring her concentration. Instantly the tiny singularity she had been generating a couple of metres above the ground collapsed into itself and drew the snow she had managed to lift into its centre, before it all fell to the ground.

Clasping a hand to her face, Faith grimaced as a sticky trickle of blood from her nose seeped into her glove. Instantly, Liara was there tenderly caressing Shepard's face and dabbing her with a tissue spotted with red, but there was a smile on the her face as she spoke excitedly. 'You almost did it that time! Just a little more and you could have-'

'Used it to tickle a husk?' Shepard interceded, frustrated but not _hugely _bothered by her failure. She was having too much fun to be truly agitated. 'Even if I _could _get the thing self-sustaining it was _tiny, _Liara.'

'We all started out small,' Liara replied patiently, repeating the same thing she had done several times before already. At the words Faith was pleasantly reminded of their trip to Mindoir, where Liara had real trouble in learning the rhythms of riding a horse... though the roles this time were very definitely reversed. 'Though it does amaze me how poorly suited human physiology is for biotics... are you feeling well?'

Liara gave a knowing smile as the finished cleaning up the minor nosebleed, and planted a soft kiss on Faith's temple.

'I'm fine. We can't all be superpowered, eezo laced beauties,' Faith said with a grin, feeling truly at ease in Liara's company despite the gentle throbbing. She drew in a deep breath and looked around, the deserted, snow-covered grounds of the T'Soni estate stretching as far as she could see in all directions. They had walked deep into one of the wooded areas for some privacy, having bundled up in warm clothes after several _very _enjoyable hours in bed. They were currently in a small clearing, alone save for the trees and what little wildlife there was willing to brave the cold. 'Ask me to wrestle though, _then _we'll talk about superior physiology.'

'I would rather leave that to the krogan... I am certain Wrex or Grunt would happily oblige if you asked them,' Liara replied, gazing out as well. Even asari _trees _seemed alien, Faith noticed - the leaf structures were similar enough that from a distance somebody might mistake them for those that grew on Earth or other human systems, but up close she could see they had developed into graceful spirals and patterns unlike any she had seen before. Like much of Thessia, they were all assorted shades of blue, purple and the occasional turquoise hinting at green, all glimmering with eezo... and all were _beautiful_. The air was silent around them other than the rustle of cool wind through the leaves, occasionally jostling some settled snow to the ground. 'Though,' Liara continued, 'my fath... _sire_... insisted on me knowing that she is half-krogan, so perhaps your antics yesterday count?'

'_Antics?_' Faith replied with mock outrage, trying to keep the grin from her lips. 'I was defending your home! Anyway, if she's half krogan, doesn't that make you _quarter _krogan?'

Liara shook her head, smiling. 'Goddess, I wish she had not said anything! It... does not work that way. '

'I bet she'd say it does. Didn't she say something about a half-hanar sister you have?'

Again the asari shook her head. 'For asari, family is traditionally only counted from the mother's side, though that changed when we made contact with other species. Some might argue even _Aethyta _is no relation to me... but...'

'She's not what I was expecting,' Faith said quietly. Aethyta's words with Liara the night before had eased some of her suspicions, but the soldier still felt a little uncomfortable with the way she had just _shown up_, as if expecting Liara to welcome her into her life without question. It was not her choice to make, though - in truth Shepard had no idea how she would respond if placed in a similar situation. As far as she knew she didn't _have _any family to show up on the doorstep.

Liara shook her head again. 'No, she is not. Mother had many partners as I was growing up, though none of them were around for more than two or three years. They were all aliens, all very... _serious_. Political allies, I believe, possibly used for advantage in her work. None were anything like Aethyta.'

With a nod, the Spectre's voice turned wistful. 'Aethyta gave the impression that they were together for love, not anything else. Seems strange to imagine the two of them together...'

'Any stranger than a heroic soldier and the sheltered archaeologist she rescued from her own foolish curiosity?' Liara sounded amused as she leaned in to rest her head on Faith's shoulder, the memories drawing smiles from both as she continued. 'It is... _good_... to imagine mother with somebody she truly loved. She always seemed so _lonely _when I was growing up.'

Hearing Liara talk like sent a wonderful, deep warmth through Faith's heart, and she gave her lover a squeeze around the waist at the words. She knew well the pain that Liara was going through - being back here, feeling that loss all too acutely in the place she knew her mother should be... but to hear her speak such things, softly, _happily_...

'Do you think they ever came out here, in the snow, like this?' Faith ventured, resting her own head on top of Liara's.

'They may have. But knowing Aethyta, it is more likely they... ah... _stayed indoors_, rather than ventured into the cold.'

Faith grimaced at the inflection. 'That you _willingly _imagine your parents doing that is kinda creepy, Liara.'

Straightening her head, Liara looked innocently, wide eyed, at Shepard. 'Having sex? Why should that be "creepy"? Asari do not even need to engage in the physical act to conceive, humans on the other hand _do_. Why, your parents must have done so at _least _three times...'

Faith began to splutter, before she caught the glint in Liara's eye, when she broke into an outraged smile. 'You're _awful_! And it's still creepy!' She jogged away a few steps, eager to change the topic. 'Anyway, being out in the snow is fun too!'

She ducked down and picked up a handful of the stuff, enjoying the way the traces of eezo glittered in the sun.

'Does your home planet get snow?' Liara called after her.

'Not where the colony was. Or is, I suppose,' Faith replied, glancing up at Liara to see the asari was looking away to the trees. Another wicked thought passed her mind, and she began to ball up the snow in her hand, speaking all the while. 'All we got in the winter was less heat, and more rain. I used to look at pictures and vids of Earth covered in snow, I always thought it was really romantic.'

Liara began to turn at Faith's words, smiling. '_Romantic_? That does not sound very much like youuuuaaaghh!'

The lightly packed ball of snow struck Liara's shoulder - exactly where Shepard had aimed it - exploding in a spray of white mist that dusted across Liara's face, forcing the asari to crumple her features in cute outrage. 'Goddess, what was _that_!?'

'I've _always _wanted to do that!'

'You are so cruel!'

'I didn't mean to- ah- Liara?' The asari had lit up with biotics, and with a gesture much too small for its effect, a massive patch of snow dislodged itself from the ground with a heavy _whump_, hovering just a few feet away from Faith, orbiting a small singularity in a manner that would be both fascinating and beautiful... if she did not know _exactly _what was about to happen. 'That's not-'

Ignoring her, Liara gave the tiniest flick of her wrist, and the enormous floating field of snow slammed into Faith.

The world turned white, even through clamped shut eyes.

The impact was light - it was not packed - but it took Faith's breath away in surprise, just as existence turned _cold_, chilling her to the bone as the snow buffeted her face.

The whirling blizzard was over just a few seconds after it started, snow drifting peacefully to the ground.

Faith stood, arms by her sides, stunned. Her exposed skin was tingling, damp as the frigid snow melted uncomfortably down her back and neck, and her clothes - previously an assortment of dark shades - were all coated in a layer of soft white.

And Liara stood, head tilted, much too pleased with herself. 'I believe this _superpowered, eezo laced beauty_ just demonstrated the superiority of biotics to physical power. Would you like to continue your lessons?'

Glancing up, Faith shook her body, dislodging a fairly massive amount of snow. With a sudden wolfish grin, she narrowed her eyes. 'Game on, T'Soni.'

* * *

_This is nice..._

Faith shifts her body slightly, and I move my head into a more comfortable position, too content to notice the slight dampness against my face from her jacket, or the biting cold air. It felt so good, so _freeing_, to simply run and laugh across the clearing, bombarding Faith with snow whenever I could, falling, shrieking, to the ground whenever she caught and tackled me. Several minutes ago we collapsed in pleasant tiredness to the ground in one of the patches I cleared of snow, tangled in each other's arms, enjoying the contact even through the layers worn to keep out the cold.

I know we should probably be doing something else, preparing for the trial, or the Reapers, but Faith _insisted _that whatever we could achieve in a day sitting in front of a computer could not match the release of tension and stress in preparation of what is to come, and though the guilt is there... I can see she was _right_.

Everything had become such an unpleasant pressure, and in simply losing myself in the work I lost sight of _why _we are doing it, and this...

_This _is why we fight, why we do what we do.

So one day we can live this life _without _that horrific knowledge that in just months every world could be burning, that we can spend hours making love without care, that we can play in the snow like children without guilt... it almost seems unreal to imagine...

'Huh... looks like things are going well over here.'

My eyes jolt open, to see Aethyta looming over us, wrapped up in a heavy coat not dissimilar to Faith's military style jacket. Sitting up - too quickly - I instantly clasp a hand to my head in a futile attempt to block the rush of blood, to rub the glare of the sun from my eyes.

Faith, of course, is more sensible, slowly rising, then helping me to my feet.

_How long were we lying like that? _

The sun does not appear to have moved, but I feel well rested... and _hungry, _after such a biotic exercise. No doubt Faith is feeling it more than I, her body unused to such a workout.

Aethyta glances around the field, then breaks into a wide smile. 'Looks like you two've been having fun. Can't recommend screwing in the snow, though. Sure, it looks kinda fun, but you just end up freezing your tits off. On a hot day though? Nothing better than an ice cube you run along your-'

Faith slashes a hand before her face hurriedly. 'We get the point!'

With a frown and shake of her head, Aethyta gestures wildly to the sky. 'I don't get you humans! I've not once met one who isn't some sort of perverted, sexual... _deviant _in the sack, but the second someone _talks _about it you get tighter than Tevos' ass when Aria's in the room.'

_Goddess... _that rumour has been around since before I was born - apparently the "Queen of Omega" has long wanted to seduce our Citadel Councillor to her bed... and of course the more outrageous tales even claim the pair are secret lovers... which is nonsense of course, the Shadow Broker would surely have known about such a thing...

I flush, embarrassed that I even _want _to know if there is any truth to it. I think I will ask one of my agents in Tevos' employ to dig deeper, if not for my curiosity then because it could be good blackmail material...

Faith apparently has not heard that one, blurting out 'Wait, wha-' before Aethyta continues, _unstoppable. _

'I mean, it makes no sense! Maybe if you talked about it more you'd have less hang-ups about the whole thing. You should take a look at the turians, they're happy to blow off steam and just about anything else, and _they've _got sticks jammed so far up their collective scaly asses they can _taste _them. Don't even get me _started _on salarians, though, _Goddess_, all that _fertilisation _talk is kinky until you realise just what they're on about, I've never needed a shower after sex so desperately. Hanar, _they're _interesting with their... I... ah...' she _finally _stops talking, eyes glazed over in memories I am not sure I _want _to know about.

The thought of her with so many aliens is... I must admit slightly disturbing. I am aware of the reputation of the asari, and in general we _are _more promiscuous than most other species who harbour such strange taboos, but I have personally never seen the appeal - is it not more natural to feel attraction to our own species? Humans are similar enough in physiology to remain at once familiar and intriguingly alien, and of course I am attracted to Faith... does such taste come from experience? Though maidens are better known for their experimentation than matrons or matriarchs, there must be something else to it, so perhaps it is just me...

'Ah... _anyway._' Aethyta breaks the awkward silence, eyes snapping back to the present.

It is so strange, to think she is my sire. She knows so _much_, and is open about her life and experiences in a way not even mother was, insightful and intelligent as she showed in our conversation about our government despite her coarse language and blunt manner. She is perhaps a little _too _keen to talk about her assorted sexual conquests, though I have begun to suspect she does that as least partially to wind Faith up, as she grows clearly uncomfortable at the topic. A strange reaction... but one of the many quirks I love about her.

The thought brings a smile to my face, and I ask, 'It is good to see you, Aethyta... was there something you needed?'

'Huh?' She again breaks into that wide, open smile. 'Oh, no, not me. I was just bringing you crazy kids some food, I heard the din you've been making from the _house _so figured you could do with some recharging.'

_Excellent!_

Faith's voice sounds at my side, uncertain. 'You... brought us a packed lunch?'

I look at her, and suddenly feel a whisper of a dozen affectionate memories wash over me, making me blink in surprise.

_Goddess, what was that?_

The feeling dissipates before I can even fully understand or absorb it, but catches my breath nonetheless. This... this gesture is familiar to her, I _know _it! When she would be out working on her farm on Mindoir, her father would bring her one of these "packed lunches", forcing her to stop working for a short break, to pace herself and know her limits... lessons she carried with her to this day, avoiding a common downfall of soldiers who think they are invincible-

_How do I know that?_

_A... a memory I picked up during a meld?_

_Or... something else?_

Looking back at her, I see in her eyes that this one simple gesture has... _swayed _her opinion about Aethyta. There is still a suspicion there, as is only natural, but in reminding her of her own father, Aethyta has given Faith a hope that the matriarch might give _me _such happiness and love, that she _wants _to give me that...

_That... that would be... nice..._

Aethyta continues, oblivious to what just passed between us. 'A what? I suppose it's technically a lunch in a pack, but you need to drop those human terms, soldier girl.' She gestures up at me without looking. 'Come here kiddo, see what I brought.'

Shooting Faith a secret smile, and seeing her grin in return with a slight shake of her head, I kneel down by the open pack. As Aethyta rummages through the bag, pulling out a wide range of snacks, suddenly she glances up... and I feel at _home, _with my human at my side, and this strange asari who loved my mother, looking at me with a fond affection only a parent could show.

* * *

'So, what exactly _were _you doing out here?'

Liara glanced up as she finished packing away some of the remnants of their lunch, then nodded in Shepard's direction. 'I was helping Faith with her biotics. She has considerable potential, but never received full training.'

'Yeah?' The matriarch's gaze shifted to the soldier. 'I thought humans were all over any biotics they had.'

With a shrug, Faith grimaced at the memory of some of Kaidan's horror stories... not to mention what she had seen at Teltin. 'Most of the time. But I was one of the weakest on record and was too good in the field to waste as a bad biotic. Once they realised my throw could barely push somebody off balance they re-assigned me to special forces training. But...'

She hesitated, not quite ready to tell Aethyta the full extent of what happened with her resurrection. 'A while back I got some experimental biotic tech put in me. Now I can uproot small trees with that same throw, but since I never learned how to do anything else, Liara was teaching me.'

The maiden smiled happily. 'We just about managed to generate a singularity, but got... _distracted._'

Aethyta snorted at that. '_Distracted, _huh? Well, you want any help? I've done a bit of biotic teaching in my time.'

Liara shot Faith a questioning glance... and the soldier was sure she could see... _or feel... _something else in it, a desire to spend a little more time with the matriarch. Unsure _how _she knew, Faith nevertheless knew with a certainty Liara would be more than happy to accept Aethyta's company and assistance.

The human nodded. 'Sounds good. I don't know if I should keep trying to get my flimsy singularity right, or...' A thought occurred to her. 'Do you know how to do a charge? I've managed a bastardised version a couple of times now, but can't seem to do it properly_._'

Aethyta cracked into a wicked grin. 'Kid, I practically _invented _it!'

'Goddess, I should have known...' Liara shook her head, but was smiling beneath her hand.

'Ok,' Faith began, eager, 'so, I can do the launch off thing but I need to know... how do you _stop _without breaking your body on whatever you hit?'

* * *

'Anyone ever tell you you drink too mm-much?'

Matriarch Aethyta glanced up from her cocktail shaker to see Shiala staring at her, the whisper of a smile on her face. Rolling her eyes, the bartender resumed her attention to the drink she was making as she replied. 'Somebody tried to tell me that once. It didn't work out too well for them. Anyway, this ain't for me. I'm trying to design a new cocktail, dedicated to the kid.'

She had the base down: naturally she had used the sweet tasting, spiced blue liqueur that gave just about every asari-themed cocktail its colour. But while the colour was right, she had avoided most of the other usual ingredients. Liara was something special, and it wouldn't do to have any old crap in there. She'd already balanced the sweetness with a splash of dry martini, and was scouring the stocks for the next addition.

_Can't believe Nezzy never got the bar taken out._

Finding that the installation she had insisted on nearly two hundred years ago was _still _there in the main building of the estate had been one hell of a pleasant surprise. Aethyta had slipped behind it as if she'd never left, marvelling that not only were all of her favourite liqueurs still kept in stock, but whoever managed it had even done a damned fine job in keeping the stock modern, with a healthy selection of the human alcohols that had taken the drinking world by storm.

The bar was otherwise empty though, the room showing signs of disuse: a thin layer of dust across the tables, and the pumps in need of a good clean.

Aethyta had no good justification as to why she had spent the last couple of hours bringing the place back up to the quality one expected from a good bar, but it felt _right_. After their biotic lessons, the human _finally _learning how to do a passable charge, the lovers had retreated back to their quarters, and Liara had said Aethyta could go anywhere she wanted... where else was there but her old haunt?

All she needed were some of Nezzy's stuffy friends to come seeking refreshment, and it would be just like the old days... save the woman herself was gone, never coming back...

_Don't... not now..._

Biting back the sorrow, she looked around. Once the place had been cleaned up she'd set herself to work trying to design the perfect cocktail for Liara. There wasn't much she felt she was _really _good at that involved making rather than breaking things, but this was one of them, and Aethyta was feeling _stupidly _happy after spending most of the afternoon in her kid's company.

'I take it you had a good afternoon out on the est-t-tate?' Shiala prompted, sitting down at the bar, groaning in pleasure as the weight was taken from her leg. Aethyta's heart went out to the commando - hearing her stutter like that was rough_, _not to mention her limp... but Shiala was a fighter, and wouldn't want any sympathy.

Instead she simply nodded, hand dancing along the row of spirits before finally resting on a small bottle of amber liqueur: a human whiskey most asari weren't especially fond of. But they were fools: it had a rich, earthy flavour that took a little while to get used to, and once you did... there wasn't anything quite like it. It would be an unexpected twist to the cocktail, like Liara's own career as an archaeologist when most kids were out getting shot or leered at. It was also a respectful nod to Liara's choice in partners: while Shepard and Aethyta didn't see eye to eye on everything and probably never would, the human had nearly beaten her to a pulp just because she _suspected _Aethyta was there to hurt Liara... and she could get behind that kind of attitude. Even if her still aching face disagreed.

Pulling the whiskey down, she set to deciding the best way to incorporate it into the mixture since the stuff was usually best enjoyed on its own. 'Yeah. Spent half the time teaching Shepard how not to cave in her skull when doing a biotic charge. Even had to reset her shoulder after a bad one. Humans are damned idiots, I'll tell you that, it's as if she _liked _getting herself hurt.' Glancing up, she added, 'You're on water with your... _thing_... right?'

Shiala shook her head with a sardonic smile. 'I sh-_should _be, but it's hardly like I'm going to get any worse. Let's see if you've still got your touch, Thyta, what do you think I want?'

Aethyta grinned, and took a good look at the green-skinned asari. If she'd been off alcohol for so long she'd not want anything _too _strong, but was obviously in the mood for something to tickle her tastebuds. From what Aethyta could remember Shiala had never been a fan of the fruity stuff - probably some commando bravado thing - but didn't have a favourite otherwise.

In the end she settled for ducking down to the fridge beneath the bar, rattling through bottles to find what she was sure she had seen earlier, eventually...

_Ha!_

She brandished a brown bottle, pleased it had a cap that would allow her to perform a little stunt that always went down well.

With Shiala as her enraptured audience, Aethyta gave a graceful flourish, before nonchalantly adjusting her breasts. Ignoring Shiala's raised brow, she raised the bottle to her chest... then jabbed the top into her right breast and twisted, dislodging the cap as the other asari began to chuckle.

Aethyta grinned as she handed it over. 'The day I can't do that any more is the day I call it quits.'

'Only you could find a way to combine breasts and dr...drinking, Thyta,' Shiala said as she cautiously sniffed the bottle.

Aethyta simply nodded proudly in return. A human had taught her that... and the night had ended with her doing shots off Aethyta's chest. But Shiala didn't need to know that; maybe she'd tell Shepard later though, the human was just _too _easy to wind up that way.

'Smells... pungent. Do I just drink it like this?' Shiala then turned the bottle around, and inspected the printed label. 'Is this h-human? I recognise the letters from my colony, I think the dialect is different though.'

Aethyta nodded, grinning. 'Yeah. Give it a try!'

The commando took a sip, and her eyes widened as she poked her tongue out. 'Ugh, it's quite bitter.'

'Yeah, everyone says that at first. Keep going!'

With a sceptical raised brow, Shiala took a second, slightly longer draw. 'I suppose it is quite... refreshing? What is it?'

'They call it "beer". Alcohol brewed from _grains _rather than fruit, if you can believe it!' Aethyta's grin widened as Shiala took another drink - she knew the commando would come around. 'The only other species who does that are the _krogan_, the rest of us are all too busy using it for _food _like sane people.'

Shiala set the bottle down with a smile. 'They're so unusual. I've lived with them for over two years now, and am still surprised at some of the things they do. Th... they can be t-terrifying in their drive, sometimes, but there's such potential for kindness and love also... it gives me hope they will be a force for good, with the right guidance.'

Aethyta snorted. She was too old for big mystical dilemmas - she'd lived long enough to know that talks of _forces for good _never went any further than talking about the damned genophage, or how only the asari were suitable to lead. The galaxy went on as always... and _s_he just wanted the juicy details. 'You bang any of them yet?'

'Ha! Should have kno...kno...' the green-skinned asari's smile faded as she shook her head with a resigned scowl, before taking a breath and trying again, 'known you'd ask.'

'That a yes, then?' Aethyta prompted with an eager smile, leaning forwards over the bar.

With a nod, Shiala smiled wistfully. 'Yeah. His name's Michael. The man's so sweet, he practically worships the ground I stand on.'

'Ugh, I hope he isn't-' began the bartender, knowing that kind of lover could be all manner of frustrating.

Shiala interceded with a grin. 'Oh no, hhh-he gives me _exactly _what I need. So _vigorous_, and _creative... _but _tender _when he needs to be...'

Aethyta wiggled her hips in pleasant discomfort. _Damn, now __**I **__need to get laid!_

'Dammit, I shouldn't have asked! Reckon there's anyone around here'd be up for a romp?'

The commando replied quickly, in a deadpan tone. 'I thought you were making a drink for Liara?'

The matriarch was about to protest, but there was a smug glint in Shiala's eye that Aethyta couldn't help but laugh at. It wasn't often anybody got one over her when it came to sex talk, and so accepting defeat, she turned back to the lines of spirits.

'Yeah, yeah, get the old lady turned on then put her to work, I know how you kids do things,' she muttered to herself, still smiling.

_Damn, it feels good to be back here, it __**really **__does._

Suddenly, the perfect addition caught her eye. 'You know what, I think I've got it.'

She pulled down a clear bottle of salarian fortified wine, flavoured with all sorts of strange herbs and spices from the Sur'Kesh jungles. By itself the stuff was odd but not great... but it was perfect for mixing into cocktails, giving them an exotic edge that invariably left the drinker intrigued. Happy with what she had, she carefully mixed the ingredients, then poured the result into a tall, rounded glass. It sparkled a pleasant blue from the base liqueur, though she could still see wisps of the amber whiskey, dancing around as if like fire in the liquid.

Slowly, she took a sip.

_... I'm __**good. **_

It took an experienced hand to mix such strong flavours as that whiskey and fortified wine without the end product coming out tasting like a vorcha's ass, but rather than fighting for prominence the flavours seemed to enhance each other, blending into something that was almost sweet and unassuming at first... before the true range came through, surprising her with their complexity and leaving her wanting _more. _

Aethyta grinned, proud of her achievement. If a drink could be a person, this one would be... _nearly_... Liara. It just needed one extra touch, and she knew exactly what.

'H...how is it?' Shiala prompted, beer already half-finished.

Aethyta ducked back down beneath the bar. 'Keep your tits on, it's _nearly _done, just needs...'

She pulled a personal bottle from her bag. Benezia had put her foot down at her keeping the stuff stocked full time, but that had never stopped her.

'Goddess, is that...' The commando's amused question hung in the air, but both knew the answer.

'Yup.' She gestured to the cocktail she had already poured. 'This is good, but not strong enough. Damn, Shi, you should have seen my girl earlier. I was curious and asked her to do a singularity... and she just about tore the _ground _up with it. Then Shepard said that was a _weak _one for her...'

Aethyta shook her head, smiling proudly. 'That's the krogan in her, I know it. So, ryncol!'

She carefully tilted the bottle over the prepared cocktail, and allowed a couple of drops to fall. That would be enough - the krogan liqueur was deadly to any other flavour if used in quantity.

'I think this is starting to taste bet...better the more I drink,' Aethyta looked up to see Shiala gazing suspiciously at the beer bottle as if it was deceiving her, before looking up with a smile. 'And you know breeding doesn't work like that, r-right?'

The matriarch broke into a wide, knowing grin. 'What'd I tell you! And you come to me when you've had a kid with your human who acts like she's got a dick and wants to swing it around, then we'll talk about _breeding_.'

Before the outraged commando could dignify that with a response, Aethyta stirred the ryncol into her cocktail, and took another sip.

'Aw shit... this is _perfect.'_

* * *

'So, here's to settling down to your matron stage, and your sex god of a human!'

Matriarch Aethyta leaned back against the bar, raising a second glass of her creation in a toast. She hadn't figured out a name for it yet: she'd never been especially good at that kind of thing, and wasn't exactly what people called "subtle". The _Liara _or maybe the _Kiddo _was a stupid name for a drink.

She'd just drink the stuff, and let somebody else figure it out.

Shiala had been knocking back the beers since her revelation, and was currently on her fifth, bearing one of those stupid, stealthy grins that crept up on the cusp of drunkenness. At Aethyta's words, she raised her own bottle with a smile. 'M... may you find one of your own.'

'Ha! I might just do that, hit up one of their colonies when we're done here. And who says I want just one?'

'... Dare I ask what you're talking about?'

Both asari turned to look at the words, to see Liara and Shepard standing in the doorway to the bar.

Shepard, the speaker, cut a fine figure in a smart, unmarked black uniform trimmed in white,the jacket buttoned up to the neck. Her dark hair was just long enough to cover her ears but not enough to tie back... and looked quite shoddily styled. Aethyta guessed Liara had been the one to do it: human hair fascinated most asari _endlessly_ but they simply could not understand the mechanics behind it, being so alien. Humour rang through the human's voice, though Aethyta couldn't help but roll her eyes as the soldier quickly assessed the room as if there were slavers hiding under the tables.

To her side, clutching tightly onto the human's arm, Liara looked radiant in a clean white dress, trimmed with black as if to complement Shepard's own clothes. Acting without the human's caution she simply smiled, nodding to Aethyta and Shiala as she pulled the pair further into the room.

Shiala turned a slightly darker shade of green in embarrassment at what they might have overheard, but Aethyta had no such qualms as she gave a wide, teasing grin. 'Shiala's new... what do you call 'em... _boy toy._ What about you, Shepard, you ever swing that way, or you a "tits for life" kinda girl?'

The human predictably flushed red, shaking her head as she muttered, 'Wh... I don't even...'

Liara seemed unphased, ignoring the question as they reached the bar. 'Rania said I might find you here. I...' she looked around with a smile. 'I always wondered what the room was for. Mother never seemed to use it, but I would occasionally find her alone in here when I was young.'

Aethyta raised a brow, truly surprised. 'You don't say? She hated the place, but got a pretty good deal out of it. I buttered up more than one of her partners - and a lot more of her rivals - for whatever she had planned for 'em.' Lost in memory, the bartender continued, 'She stopped complaining about the bar tab the first time it happened, and by the end, she was practically throwing the suckers at me.'

'That... does not sound like her,' Liara replied hesitantly, carefully seating herself between Shiala and her human with perfect posture. With a blink, Aethyta was again reminded of that frustratingly _proper_ asari with whom she had shared over a century of life and love... and with whom she'd created this beautiful girl.

'She...' Aethyta shook her head. 'She changed, Kiddo. We barely spoke after we split, but whenever we did...'

She took a gulp of her drink, mostly as a prop to allow a moment to gather herself. 'I dunno if she was more into her work, or whatever, but it was like she was taking the whole _matriarch _deal to mean she wasn't allowed to enjoy her life.'

With a deep breath, Aethyta looked up to see three pairs of eyes trained on her. Nezzy had been one _hell _of a woman, something different to each of them: mother, guardian and foe... and there was no way she'd done anything over than left a lasting impression on each.

Over a hundred years had passed but Aethyta had not found anybody who even came close. Conversations were like talking to pyjaks in comparison. Sex was like rubbing a quick one out in the bathroom. Melding... melding with Benezia was like touching the damned galactic core itself; so much knowledge, intelligence, strength and wisdom in one person's mind... how could anything compare to that?

Aethyta forced a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes, and waved her glass in the direction of the unlikely trio. 'You guys want something to drink?' Locking eyes with her daughter... _damn_... she winked. 'Brewed this up just for you.'

There were subdued nods all around, and in no time all four had a fresh glass, each sparkling blue.

Aethyta awkwardly scoured her brain for something to drink to, coming up short. It wasn't like her to be stuck for words, and she was about to just get started with the drinking when Shiala quietly offered, 'Benezia T'Soni. The galaxy is a lesser place for her loss.'

Aethyta had, of course, had lovers die before. It was part and parcel of being asari, and a damned old one at that: whether it was short lived aliens, or the lifestyle, or accident or illness or any other misfortune, Aethyta had lost _hundreds _of friends, family and partners over her lifetime.

She knew how to deal with it. For all the mystical crap her people preached, this was one thing they had right... and oddly enough, it was one they shared with the long-lived krogan, probably because however fancy they phrased it, it boiled down to pure practicality. Sure, mourning was necessary, but after that, you move on, keeping the best of them in your heart_. _

But Nezzy was... _different._ Aethyta had honestly believed that they would face the coming untold centuries together. They would raise their beautiful little kid together, be the wise... _ha_... matriarch pair, and maybe eventually, choose to end their lives together rather than succomb to the ravages of extreme age.

Aethyta had never quite gotten past the loss of that, if not perfect, then _happy _future. A future she sure as hell didn't deserve, but had, one year at a time with Benezia, slowly let herself believe she might have anyway.

Gone.

How could she honour that, honour _her, _with a stupid drink and empty words? Her voice cracked as she tried anyway. 'She was... the greatest person I've ever known.' The words sounded _pitiful _compared to the woman herself, but Aethyta didn't trust herself to say anything more without choking up.

Silence drew out again, before Shepard hesitantly spoke up, adding her thoughts and memories. 'She...' the human began slowly, looking to Liara for reassurance. With glistening eyes, the maiden nodded. 'She was lost doing what she thought right to make the galaxy a better place. I only saw a shell, but will remember her through the love of those close to her.'

More nods, then eventually all eyes turned to Liara, who gazed solemnly into her drink. Time drew out... _Say something kid..._ until she finally looked up with a dazzling smile, though her words were thick with sorrow. 'I... thank you all for being here. My relationship with mother was... by no means perfect. W... we argued, I thought she was too distant, she thought I was too defiant.'

Liara brought a hand up to her face, brushing away a dampness in her eye. 'But I thought that she would live forever. That maybe we would have reconciled one day, or... or talked to each other as... as equals, just _once_.'

The maiden sniffed, and Shepard placed a soft hand on her thigh in reassurance as Liara continued, eyes glistening. 'But we cannot do that now. I cannot tell her h-how much she inspired me, or... or how sorry I am that I never listened...'

She took a deep breath, and looked up at Aethyta. 'But I do not believe she would want me living with such regrets. While I was obsessed with looking to the past, she believed in working for a better _future._'

_She did, she was always talking about how she wanted to make the galaxy a better place for those after her... __**damn **__Nezzy, what happened?_

'So... so I think we should drink to a future that she would have wanted, and honour her memory by working to make it real.'

Aethyta nodded, finally allowing a century of loss to touch her heart, a century of longing and... the final, inevitable knowledge of Benezia's death gripped her voice and dampened her eyes, however hard she tried to blink it back. 'Well said, Ki...Liara.' She raised her glass, a single tear running down her face. 'To Benezia.'

Three voices replied, heavy with grief, memory, and hope for the future. 'To Benezia.'

* * *

'Bah, call that a story?'

Faith grinned as Aethyta scoffed at Shiala's tale of her team pulling a Thresher Maw from the ground with their biotics, leaving the galaxy's most terrifying predator _helpless_, writhing on the sand.

They had spent the last few hours at first talking about Benezia... but as more and more alcohol flowed, the group had begun sharing ridiculous tales of their lives to date, each one eliciting at first grins, then chuckles... and eventually roars of laughter that seemed to fill the room with such a _positive _feeling Shepard didn't think she could remove the smile from her face if she tried. That Liara was flushing prettily from the laughter, and alcohol, was no small bonus either, though the maiden had taken something of a back seat to the other three in sharing tales, simply enjoying the mood.

'You girls think you've seen a lot.' Aethyta leaned forward onto the bar, a gratuitous amount of cleavage pouring from her barely-buttoned shirt. 'Hell, between a commando with a few centuries experience and a _Spectre_, I bet you've seen more than most. But until you've seen a volus biotic bombardment regiment, you ain't seen _shit_.'

'Volus... biotics?' Faith asked incredulously.

'Every species has biotics, soldier girl,' Aethyta replied, standing again and leaning back against the wall, 'but I'm not just talking about one who can lift crates for their friends, or give a girl an extra special time. I'm talking about a unit of fully armed and armoured volus soldiers ready to kick some ass... _rolling _into battle!'

Aethyta's serious expression threw the group for a second, before Faith, Liara and Shiala all burst into laughter again.

'You aren't sss-serious!' Shiala managed to get out, between deep, sucking breaths and barking laughs.

'I shit you not! I've not seen anything like it to this day. I was on one of their colonies bunked up with a pretty open minded couple, when some slaving bastards attacked. The turian patrol was nowhere near, but one of the volus' own military ships was...' The matriarch shook her head. 'While I was tearing some of the slavers new ones... hard to do that in an envirosuit, by the way... this shuttle soared overhead, and dropped a ramp down to the ground. Next thing I see is a damned glowing _comet _launch off the shuttle, slamming into one of the bastards.'

'No way...' Faith began, for Aethyta to turn to her with a knowing smile.

'Best biotic charge I've ever seen,' the matriarch said with a wink. 'But even when that one was ripping shit up, the others _rolled _down that ramp, all of 'em chucking these biotic bombs at the slavers...' She shook her head again. 'Biotic bombardment. The slavers were all dead in less than five minutes. No. Volus. Casualties.'

Silence drew out for a second as the group imagined the spectacle... before Liara, brow arched in skepticism, asked what they were all thinking. 'They _rolled?_'

Aethyta nodded earnestly. 'Honest truth, kid._ Rapid deployment technique_, they said. Their armour's specially designed for it.'

'My training covered _all _species' special forces!' Faith exclaimed, more in jest than serious... though her curiosity had _definitely _been peaked. 'Are you saying the volus are harbouring a squad of rolling biotic powerhouses from the rest of the galaxy?'

Aethyta leaned forward to the trio, grinning wildly. 'Top secret project, ladies. Last thing you expect from a volus is to have one of them kick your ass!' She shook her head. 'One of the most impressive things I've ever seen. They could have had me, all twelve, right there if they wanted.'

'Father!' Liara blurted out in outrage, flushing a deep navy.

'What? Power's hot, kid! And you can't tell me otherwise when you're banging the _First Human Spectre._'

Faith suddenly found her drink extremely interesting, taking a healthy sip as Liara's eyes popped wide. 'I... that is not the point!'

'Uh-huh? So you going to tell me when she's tearing shit up you're _not _thinking about getting that sweet ass back into the bedroom?'

Faith coughed, spraying some blue fluid directly back into her glass as Liara continued to stutter. 'N-no! I mean, I _do_, ah... that is not the _only..._ _Goddess..._'

Setting down her spoiled glass, Faith shot Liara what she hoped was an encouraging smile, then turned to Aethyta, trying to derail the conversation. 'I'll take your word on the biotics, but _rolling_?.'

'Believe what you want, Shepard.' She tapped her temple. 'Still got the memory here, clear as the day I saw it. I'd offer to show you, but-'

'No!' Liara said quickly, eyes dancing with worry, before clasping a hand to her mouth.

'Yeeeah, figured you might've picked up Nezzy's possessive streak,' Aethyta drawled with a smile, voice still upbeat, but carrying a serious undertone. 'Don't worry Li, not I nor any asari worth knowing would do that without clearing it with you first.'

'I... I am sorry, I know that...' Liara turned to Faith, cerulean eyes glittering, 'I apologise, I did not mean to imply I had any right to decide what you-'

'Hey,' Faith cut in softly, smiling, 'you've got nothing to be sorry for. Besides...' The human softly shoulder bumped the asari, feeling surprisingly bold despite their company. 'I kinda like it when you get possessive.'

'Ha! Guess we know who wears the pants, huh?' Aethyta butted into the moment with a grin, pouring Faith a refill in a fresh glass from a huge pitcher she had mixed. ''Sides, I don't think Shep here is ready for some of the things I've... experienced. They might just _slip in_ there_, _you know?'

Shepard shot Aethyta a dirty look as an oddly comfortable silence fell, both Liara and Shiala shaking their heads in amusement. Aethyta's tawdry tales and lewd suggestions - usually aimed at her - were endlessly embarrassing, but the mood of the room was so positive Faith couldn't hold it against her.

'You've been qu...quite quiet, Liara,' Shiala eventually said, waving away Aethyta's offer of a refill. The commando had already drunk quite a lot of what she'd taken to calling the "Digger" after Liara's old profession, and was clearly feeling the effects, cheeks flushed a deep green. 'Do you have annn...nny stories about your travels?'

The maiden sat quietly for a moment, looking thoughtful. 'My life was rather boring until Faith rescued me,' she began, affectionate eyes melting Faith's heart. 'Though there is one mission of ours I remember as particularly... _interesting..._'

Shepard eyed Liara curiously, wondering to which she was referring. Feros, Virmire and Noveria had all been full of horror... not exactly the best topics for their easygoing evening.

'Yeah?' Aethyta asked, looking interested. 'What was it? Krogan warlords? Geth? Vorchan orgy?'

The moment ground to a halt as Liara let out a meek protest. 'What?'

'Ah...' Aethyta blinked 'Nevermind, go on kid!'

Liara looked bemused for a second, before shaking her head with a smile. 'Ah... no, nothing so dramatic. But the Commander had received a call from the Alliance that a probe used to monitor geth activity had gone dark.'

Faith's eyes widened. _No..._

'She, myself and Urdnot Wrex armoured up, suspecting the worst. We deployed to the planet Eletania in the Mako, and swiftly located the probe by its emergency beacon.'

Faith groaned, head in her hands, as the other two asari leaned in to Liara's story.

'Only, the data module inside was missing! It not only contained potentially useful geth intelligence, but if the geth themselves managed to find it, they could use it to uncover sensitive Alliance encryption algorithms, and so on. We readied our weapons, expecting combat.'

The human dropped her head to the bar.

'Our scanners showed that we were not alone,' Liara said mysteriously. 'There were eyes on us, all around. It was then we noticed that the probe had landed... in the centre of a pyjak colony!'

After a second of stunned silence, Aethyta and Shiala burst into laughter, as Faith ground her head into the bar in shame.

Liara's voice cracked with tipsy amusement as she tried to continue. 'S... so, Faith ordered us to begin _searching _the pyjaks!'

'No way!' Aethyta exclaimed, between roars of laughter. 'Haha! The great human Spectre, patting down monkeys!'

'They had important data!' Faith claimed, trying to regain _some _semblance of dignity. _I can't believe Liara's telling them __**this...**_

'They were space monkeys!'

'They stole Alliance intel!' A furious blush worked its way across the soldier's face as she glared at the matriarch.

'And... and that was not even the best part,' Liara continued, smiling widely. 'The pyjaks in the first colony did not have it, so we spent the next _five hours _traversing the planet, travelling from colony to colony, searching all of the inhabitants at each!'

'Fff... five hours!' Shiala gasped out in laughter, forcing the blush across Faith's cheeks to deepen, even as Aethyta slapped the bar in glee.

'And with that old bastard Wrex? I bet he wasn't happy!'

'He said we should just kill them!' Faith growled, wondering how much worse this could _get. _

'But Faith would not let him,' Liara replied, voice full of warmth. 'She insisted they had done nothing other than act according to their nature, and did not deserve to die when they had not actually hurt anybody.'

'Aww, that's _sweet_!' Shiala cooed, which, Faith decided, was quite possibly the _worst _thing she could have done in the situation. Because Commander Shepard, Hero of the Citadel, Butcher of Torfan and assorted other impressive titles, had never felt less impressive in her entire life.

'Just so you know, that mission ended up with us killing about twenty geth,' she grumbled unhappily, taking a sip of her drink. 'I pummelled one of them to death with my shotgun when it overheated. Nobody remembers _that._'

'_I _remember,' Liara said affectionately, placing a hand on Faith's thigh. The human looked up and smiled, feeling a little better. 'I remember your kindness to those little creatures, and how gentle you were when searching them. You even protected the one that was carrying the module from geth fire by hiding him before joining the fight.'

_Screw it._

'They were _cute!_' She finally insisted, deciding it was better to just go with it, much to the delight of her asari companions. 'I wouldn't have been so nice if they were batarians or something.'

'Commander Shepard, saviour of the space monkeys!' Aethyta laughed gleefully. 'Girl, you're _never _going to live this one down!'

'Nor would I want her to.' Liara reached over and took Faith's hand, leaning in to press her body against the human's as she spoke happily. 'Power might be, as you say, _hot, _but power tempered with such compassion? That is positively _scorching._'

* * *

Faith smiled as she drew in a breath of crisp winter air, reveling in the scent of the night, in the sight of the snow glittering in the moonlight, and most of all in the asari whose shoulder her arm was wrapped around.

Liara had requested they walked back to their living quarters, to help clear her, as she phrased it, _pleasantly drunk_ head, and Faith was simply delighting in the smile that still graced her lovely face as they strolled slowly through the deserted night, sharing a comfortable silence.

Liara, clad just in her beautiful white dress and soft shawl, shivered as her breath steamed in the frigid air. Before she could object, Faith slipped off her jacket, leaving her torso clad in just a short-sleeved black shirt, and draped it across the Liara's shoulders.

The cold night bit at her bare arms, but she ignored it as Liara gave a grateful smile, asking softly, 'Are you sure?'

Shepard nodded with a smile, again wrapping an arm around Liara's shoulder. 'I'm sure.'

The pair quietly walked through the estate for close to ten minutes, and were approaching their house when a quiet voice sounded at Faith's side.

'I love you.'

Faith's heart stopped.

Just three little words... _so simple_, but the way Liara said them, with such absolute devotion and conviction as if striking them into existence itself, sucked the breath from her lungs and sent her head spinning.

'I... I know you know that, but I feel I do not say it enough. I love you, Faith Shepard. More than anything.'

They stopped walking, and Faith looked into Liara's glimmering blue eyes, swimming with unfathomable depth and tenderness.

Shepard opened her mouth, unsure of how to respond. Liara blushed, and smiled shyly.

_Say something!_

A million things flashed through her mind. Long, eloquent reasons she loved Liara in return. Other feelings she often had so much trouble putting into words. A gratitude she could _never _even come close to being able to express in words, for all Liara had given to her.

But...

Words seemed insufficient.

Instead, Faith leaned down and took Liara's sapphire lips, eliciting a small gasp before the kiss deepened, long, passionate, obliterating the universe outside of that one moment.

An eternity passed as they finally broke, both a little out of breath.

A tiny snowflake dropped onto Liara's nose, causing her face to crumple prettily.

Faith reached up to brush it away, and planted a delicate kiss in its place.

'I love you too, Liara T'Soni.'

* * *

_**A/N: **__Thank you Jay8008 and Vector 71 for the help with this monster chapter - as always your work is hugely appreciated. I did say I would try to keep chapter length down... from next time, I promise :-p_

_This was a fun one to write - but sadly the last "fluff" for quite some time - drama and action from here on out! Next chapter will see Benezia's trial, and after that events which will drag the plot into a rough interpretation of the ME3 as the Reapers make their moves towards completing their Cycle. Some of the key moments will be the same, but the order and settings will be different from in-game to account for the story to this point._

_Thank you all for reading!_


	41. Chapter 41

I once dreamed of seeing this room. Of hearing the matriarchs of Thessia, in all their splendor and glory, share their wisdom.

But never like this.

The enormous Palace of Armali is a monumental expanse around me, but despite its towering ceiling, and walls worthy of a fortress, it manages to inspire only claustrophobia.

This place was built millennia ago, just as my people touched the stars. Built through the voluntarily donated funds and effort of our entire civilisation, it was created as the crown jewel of our greatest city - a monument of our accomplishment and worth to impress whomever we may encounter in the vast expanse of space. Now, the palace serves as both a hugely popular tourist attraction, and the meeting place of our matriarchs to discuss matters of galactic importance.

On speaking to Faith, I learned her people have buildings dedicated to prosecuting criminals, just as they do politics and even specifically for displaying art - such formal distinction seems so _alien_! Most of our public buildings have purposes incorporating all of those and more, perhaps because our matriarchs fulfil so many different roles in our society. And art for its own sake seems such a waste: art reflects culture, should it not be _part _of that culture rather than kept apart? For all our appearances might be somewhat similar, I am constantly surprised and reminded that humans are so _different_.

I feel my mind wandering, and with a shake of my head remind myself that _now _is perhaps not the time to daydream of the peculiarities of my lover's race.

We stand, Faith, Aethyta, Shiala and myself, upon a floor etched with a sprawling impression of the long history of Thessia. The vast conical room is richly adorned; everything from its furnishing to its architecture designed to give the impression of grace and beauty, constructed from rare materials and decorated by artisans who spent centuries studying their art, and centuries more perfecting what are now endless legacies to their skill and their families, each famous across the galaxy.

The Spiral Stairs of Lanya En'Gati, each of the three hundred and thirty three steps a different metal or alloy, arranged in a scientifically complex yet visually beautiful pattern designed to the chemical makeup of the metal itself.

The Birth of the Asari - the painting adorning the walls of the room - by the artist Tiril, who gave up her family and house on completion of the work. She travelled Thessia for three centuries, collecting a drop of blood from every single family, eventually blending the genetic code of the entire asari race into her painting of the ocean from which we came. _The blood of my own ancestors lies somewhere in the walls_... the thought is somewhat humbling.

The voice of Athame. The high, curved roof was designed by the architect Irasa Y'Sona such that if a person stands at a certain designated point - cordoned off to all save those specifically granted the honour - and sings, it is naturally amplified by the shape and materials of the ceiling to a level that sounds as if the Goddess herself is singing down from the heavens.

Dozens, perhaps _hundreds_ more examples of my peoples' grace, skill, intelligence and beauty.

But I never wanted to see it like this.

The Stairs seem dull and listless. The Birth, pretentious. The Voice, muted.

I wanted to see it as my mother's daughter, accompanying her as she stood and shared her wisdom, introduced to them as her heir, perhaps even granted the chance to share some discovery I made regarding the Protheans, or maybe...

I mentally shake myself. _It does not matter now._

I _am _here as my mother's daughter.

On a high dais sloping up away from us stand over one hundred matriarchs, each behind a lectern bearing their family's insignia. Each wears an expression heavy with emotions ranging from grief, to sympathy, to unrestrained condemnation.

At the fore are the three foremost voices of the asari people - other than Councillor Tevos - Matriarchs Ves, Artus and Leyya, each flanked by a pair of hard eyed commandos dressed in ancient ornamental armour; black leather plated with heavy, crimson bands wrapped like serpents across the chest and large, unwieldy plates over their shoulders and thighs.

I only once saw Shiala in her ornamental armour, accompanying mother to this very hall whilst I remained at the estate. I have to hold in a twitch across my lips as I remember her ranting about it.

"_It's hot, heavy, and about as useful as a one legged elcor in a real fight. Give me my leathers any day."_

She joked, but I know now she would give anything for the chance to wear it again. She, like Aethyta and myself, now wears a loosely wrapped robe, as is traditional for asari in such a formal setting. Faith, standing reassuringly close at my side, is again wearing her black uniform, holding herself with that perfect, quiet confidence I know signals her absolute attention and focus.

Could the four of us... a maiden, a disgraced matriarch, a wounded commando and an alien, sway the judgement of the matriarchs?

Before us stand perhaps one hundred thousand years of life, wisdom and experience. The weight of their years fills the room with a mood so heavy it presses into my chest, shortening my breath. _They _are why the asari are so powerful... any of them could list so many experiences I could never imagine, give voice to opinions so complex it would take years to understand, and their view of the galaxy is one a maiden such as myself could not hope to share...

_How does Faith not feel it?_

Aethyta, for all her unconventional personality and crass demeanour, has all the experience of these matriarchs... of perhaps more, given her eventful life. Shiala is over four hundred years old, and stood with mother many times in this room.

Faith... she is less than a third of my own already young age, and yet stands in the face of those who have seen the turn of the galaxy as only an asari can, confident that what she says will be of any consequence to them.

I shuffle a little closer, arm brushing against her sleeve. She turns, and her stoic face brightens almost imperceptibly before she gives a tiny nod, and turns back to the matriarchs, waiting for them to open proceedings.

With a deep breath, feeling her own confidence run through me, I straighten, and look directly into the glittering sapphire eyes of Matriarch Leyya, standing front and centre.

_We can do this._

* * *

'_Specialist Traynor?'_

With an undignified squeak, Sam clamped her arm across the towel wrapped around her glistening body, and spun around on the spot in the tight, uncomfortable "shower" room, before her mind latched on to just _who _had spoken.

'Erm... _EDI_?'

'_Yes. I apologise for disturbing you, but there is a situation I require your skillset to assess.'_

The AI sounded genuinely apologetic, and not for the first time Sam marvelled that she was serving on a ship with one. The Alliance VIs that gave announcements during her previous postings and studies were dull, monotone affairs, while this one was _smart, _and had such a _lovely _voice...

The words broke through her off-duty persona, and set off her alarm bells. What could _she _help an _AI _with?

'What do you mean, EDI? What's going on?'

'_I have detected a sudden spike of comm traffic amongst the asari fleet in the system. I... lack the judgement to know if this is normal, for example part of a training exercise, or something we need to be aware of.'_

There could be any number of reasons for such a thing happening, Sam knew, most of them harmless. She enviously eyed the soft, comfortable clothes she had hoped to slip into after her ridiculously unsatisfying shower - a torrid affair of weak mass effect fields and not nearly enough water. She was supposed to meet Doctor Chakwas for a game of chess.

_But it never hurts to be careful... _Her gaze shifted sadly over to the uniform she had been wearing all day, crumpled into the corner of the room.

With a sigh, she spoke again. 'I'll be in the war room in a couple of minutes.'

'_Thank you, Specialist Traynor. Executive Officer Vakarian is currently sleeping, do you wish me to wake him?'_

Sam shook her head. 'Wait until I've had a look, it's probably nothing.'

She was about to get redressed when a sudden, slightly scary, thought occurred to her. 'Do you have cameras in here?'

'_I do.'_

'Ah... _why_?'

'_They were installed by Cerberus engineers who judged valuable conversations might take place in the female bathroom. I found no evidence this was so, but when I was freed from their operational shackles I kept them activated in case of any accidents.'_

She clasped the towel around her body a little tighter. How many times had she showered in here? 'Ah... could you please... turn them off? I promise I won't hurt myself.'

'_As you wish, Specialist Traynor. It is done.'_

Traynor swallowed, looking suspiciously around the room. She had no reason to believe the AI was lying, but nevertheless wedged herself as far into the corner of the tiny bathroom as she could before swiftly dressing.

Sexy voice or not, Sam was only happy with people watching her shower when _she _let them.

* * *

Faith Shepard did not like the matriarchs.

She did not like the pretentious "palace" they insisted on seeing the small group in.

She did not like the way they stood like statues, high above them.

She did not like the judgement in their eyes every time their gaze landed on Aethyta, the patronising glances shot at Liara, or the odd curiousity whenever they looked at her.

She did not like the way every _single _thing about the occasion seemed designed to ensure she, Liara, Aethyta and Shiala were reminded who held the power.

But she did not react. She did not allow her frustration to touch her face. Petty tricks designed to intimidate would _not _cow her. Liara on the other hand...

Faith turned at a slight brush against her sleeve, and shot the asari a small, reassuring smile.

The soldier could not blame her: Liara was standing before the highest of all authorities for her people, in a place Faith gathered was near enough legendary. She was nervous; not just impressed by the display but also for what might happen should the judgement go against Benezia. For what they might bring up in an attempt to determine Benezia's guilt.

Shepard narrowed her eyes against Matriarch Artus, standing to the left of the trio at the fore. Remembering Aria's deal, she had dug up as much history as she could on the matriarch... coming up surprisingly short. She had hoped for some skeletons in the closet, but it seemed Artus' life, for all its impressive length, had actually been rather uneventful. But that was material enough in itself - she was still confident she could carry out the Pirate Queen's will, without resorting to any less savoury tactics.

The silence drew out, and Faith had to force herself not to grit her teeth, or clench her fists. She would not show them how much their display was frustrating her. Aethyta apparently had no such qualms, yawning widely and obviously to Shiala's clear amusement. Finally, the matriarch in the centre took a small step forward, the hard looking commandos to either side as still as stone.

'In this palace of our mothers, we stand to discuss a matter of great sorrow for our people.' Leyya's voice was rich, practiced and calm, echoing throughout the otherwise silent domed room. 'Matriarch Benezia of House T'Soni allied with the traitor, former Council Spectre Saren Arterius, and with him committed multiple acts of atrocity upon the galaxy at large. The exact date of her joining him is unknown, but the crimes of Saren and Benezia are well recorded in Citadel records.'

The matriarch to Leyya's left, Ves, took a step forward as well. Faith vaguely wondered how many times they had practiced the display, or if it was natural through repeated experience. 'What Benezia did is not in question. But our people have known Benezia as an envoy for the benefit of the galaxy for centuries, a true paragon of our people. Her actions were most certainly out of character. Today we decide if her motivations give any excuse to these crimes, or if she and her family suffer the consequences.'

Lastly, Artus stood up to her lectern. 'Before us stand those who would give context we lack to Benezia's actions. Maiden Liara T'Soni, daughter of Benezia. Matron Shiala Inrala, lead commando of Benezia's personal guard. Faith Shepard, human, who was charged by the Citadel Council to track and stop Saren Arterius. She has been granted special dispensation to stand in the halls of our ancestors based on a plea by Maiden T'Soni that her testimony is vital to understanding Benezia's actions. And...' her brow raised, as if noticing Aethyta for the first time. 'Matriarch Aethyta of one of the lesser houses, former bondmate of Matriarch Benezia, and... _father_... of Maiden T'Soni.'

A quiet, disapproving murmur passed through the ranks of matriarchs, and this time Faith _did _clench her fists. Aethyta had warned they might make a deal out of the fact Liara's sire was asari, the bartender flaring her biotics angrily as she ranted about the ridiculous prejudices. But this trial was being publically broadcast to _all _asari who would watch the judging process, many of whom might be born of two asari themselves, so Aethyta assured Liara that the matriarchs wouldn't _openly _make any comments. Not to mention, Aethyta had said, there was something of an open rumour that Ves herself was pureblooded, not that anybody would dare suggest it to her face, else risking her apparently formidable wrath.

Leyya nodded, and stood a little straighter. 'For the benefit of those inexperienced in out ways,' Faith was surprised to notice they all seemed to be looking at _Liara, _instead of her, 'I will explain that we have already seen evidence of all of Benezia's actions, and as such claiming anything she did or did not do is unnecessary. We have spent much time discussing _why _she might have committed such crimes, and this involved a substantial devotion to learning about the process known as _indoctrination_.'

There it was. Shepard had every intention to fight to clear Benezia's name, and _that _was just as much a part of why, as Liara's own desires. She would have done so anyway, but in knowing that so much of her preparation for the Reapers depended on people believing things such as indoctrination were _real_, she had a military as well as personal incentive.

She would not fail. She _could _not.

Leyya smiled, the gesture surprisingly warm, actually touching her eyes. For all the showmanship of the trial, Faith judged that Leyya was genuine in her affections... unlike most human politicians she had met. Was she imposing her own prejudices against authorities she had _experience _with, onto these asari who were not technically politicians like the ever-frustrating Tevos? From what she gathered, these matriarchs actually held little legally codified power; they simply gathered to share their wisdom and give the asari democracy some semblance of direction and leadership.

That said, in this case _they _acted as both judges and jury in such high-profile cases of treason, not the asari populace as a whole.

Shepard took a deep breath, and focused.

Leyya continued, 'As I am sure you are aware, judging the validity of the claims of _indoctrination _goes beyond this trial. The _Reapers _are not the topic of today's proceedings, but precedents may be set. For that reason, I implore you all to speak only the full and absolute truth.'

Artus spoke up, with a look across her face Faith did not like at all, though her voice was sickly sweet. 'The words of a maiden, a matriarch who willingly excludes herself from most of Thessia's proceedings and a _human _would normally not carry such weight. Know that you bear a great responsibility this day.'

Faith bit back a harsh retort: now was not the time to speak against the matriarch. But the attitude left a nasty taste in her mouth: she had just demeaned all four of them - especially Shiala by ignoring her completely - wrapping it in a thin coat of praise.

Ves frowned across the room at Artus. _Aethyta said of them all, she'd be on our side. _'Their status matters less to us than their experience. Even the wisest matriarch cannot know all, and the youngest newborn might see things we do not if we happen to be looking elsewhere.'

Artus glanced across the hall to Ves, still with a smile touching her lips. 'Of course. The perspective of others gives all life diversity and context.'

_Right. _

Artus straightened, and spoke again. 'But I am not alone in feeling doubt as to the reliability of these witnesses. Maiden T'Soni is not only young, but is the _daughter _of Benezia, and has a huge vested interest in seeing her name cleared of guilt. Shiala is the conspicuously lone survivor of Benezia's guard. The human-'

'_Spectre_.' Faith spoke not loudly, but clearly, and her hard voice overrode the matriarch.

Artus seemed surprised that somebody had interrupted her. 'Excuse me?'

Faith stared into Artus' deep, ocean dark eyes. 'My title is not _human, _it is Spectre of the Citadel Council.'

She left the words hanging, but the subtext was, she hoped, obvious. She was not there as a human, or as Liara's partner.

Faith also felt something of a grim satisfaction as Artus' commandos seemed to clutch their weapons a little tighter at the words.

Artus frowned, before her face cleared into a politician's practiced platitude. 'You have my apologies, Spectre.'

Faith nodded. 'And _Doctor _T'Soni was part of the team which _stopped _Saren and Benezia. You doubt her experience because of her age? In just over one hundred years she has not only worked her way to become a leading authority on the Prothean extinction, but was one of those who saved the entire Citadel from destruction three years ago. There are _some _people many times her age who could not claim such achievements with their life.'

'_Thank you, _Spectre Shepard,' Leyya spoke before Artus, who seemed to be bristling, could say anything. Faith had not intended to say anything at this point, but would _not _stand by as anybody belittled her friends. 'We already discussed this Artus, there will be no further comments as to the suitability of our guests as witnesses.'

A wave of generally approving nods carried around the room. Faith was glad: while she did not find the asari custom of unquestioningly deferring to matriarchs personally appealing, simply ranting at what was clearly a culture that _worked _would not get her anywhere. It seemed she had gone just far enough in asserting that she, and her allies, were not to be pushed over, but had not actually offended anybody. Except perhaps for Artus, who she had quite pointedly glared at as she listed Liara's qualifications, but that could not be helped. Faith had a debt to repay.

Leyya looked around the room, smiling sadly. 'Benezia affected all of us in a profound way. Her actions, and her loss, has inflamed a lot of tensions, and I urge everybody to remember why we are here.' She looked down at her lectern, then back up to the small group. 'Shiala, you volunteered to come here, away from your self-imposed exile, because you too were a victim of indoctrination. I would ask you to speak first, to explain to us this process so Benezia's actions might be understood.'

The commando hobbled forward, leaning heavily on her cane. She spoke slowly, clearly not wanting to stutter as she gave her testimony. 'I would be honoured to speak before you, matriarchs. That period of my life is one I remember only with shame, but I will relive it for you today, so you can see how Benezia... how we _all_... came to commit our atrocities.'

* * *

'Ah... Officer Vakarian?'

The turian's pitch dark eyes flickered open at the gently spoken words, and he instantly sat up from the cot he had set up in the corner of the gun battery. While he had spent most of his time since Shepard left him in charge in the war room, there was something reassuring about the cannon that meant every night he would spend half an hour calibrating the systems, the tedious work relaxing his mind before he drifted off to sleep.

Pulling himself to his feet, he saw Specialist Traynor standing awkwardly in the doorway to the battery. She was still in uniform, and the turian in him instantly snapped to attention at the way she seemed a little... _damp_... as if fresh from cleaning herself, but completely on edge.

'What is it, Traynor?'

The woman straightened and saluted at the hard tone of his voice. She was an odd human, seeming to flicker between quite a relaxed outlook at times... but yet insisted on addressing everybody by titles nobody else bothered with, and keeping herself; her uniform and demeanor, to a soldier's perfection when on duty. _That _thought wiped away the last dregs of sleep, and he strode forward as she began to speak with military precision.

'Sir, ten minutes ago EDI asked me to take a look at some transmissions she picked up. The asari fleet in the system has lit up with activity, and... I don't think it's a drill.'

'How do you know?' he asked, striding past her and down the length of the ship. If something was happening, he would be needed either in the war room or CIC.

'Intuition, sir, I can't put my finger on any specific reason but...' Garrus looked at the dark skinned human, whose wet, glossy black hair was tied into a knot similar to that Shepard used to wear before she had it sheared. With a shrug, Traynor caught his eye. 'I _know _it's not just nothing. It would take too long to explain why.'

The turian nodded, feeling both a rush of discomfort at simply accepting the communication specialist's word... and an eerie sense of familiarity at the scenario. Though, in his memories it was _him _trying to convince his superiors that his feelings were worth listening to. Making a snap decision, he accepted Traynor's assessment. 'Ok, so something's happening. Any idea what it is?'

They got into the elevator together. 'No, sir. The asari transmissions are encrypted.'

Garrus nodded again. 'Any chance we can break them, just to listen in? EDI?'

_'Cerberus installed several-'_

'I could do it.'

Both EDI and Garrus paused, surprised at the strength in Sam's voice. He looked at her curiously. 'You sure?'

Traynor nodded confidently. 'Yes, sir, with EDI's help I'm sure I could. But...' her voice dropped, as if afraid the asari might _hear _her. '_Should _we? The asari are our allies, if we contacted them they might let us listen in anyway, and if something's going on, we could offer our assistance.'

As she finished, Garrus flickered his mandibles in distaste. She was right: he _should _contact the asari, but to do so would be to put the _Normandy - _currently floating with close to a hundred other ships in a holding area around the planet Athame - on the military's radar. If something _was _going on, the _Normandy's _biggest advantage was its stealth.

Another instant decision, and he resolved to accept the consequences of whatever came of it. 'Hack them. But _don't _let them know we're listening in. We _don't _want the asari pissed off at us.'

* * *

The elevator opened on the command deck, and Traynor again saluted, snapping off a quick 'Yes sir!' before running back to the war room. Garrus strode up the steps to overlook the galaxy map, clenching the barrier as a display of the Parnitha system floated serenely before him.

'EDI,' he said softly, vaguely wishing Shepard was there. He _hoped _it was nothing, hoped that he would be forced to deal with a bunch of humans disgruntled that he'd bothered them for no reason. Because most of the alternatives were, frankly, terrifying. 'Wake everybody up.'

'Would you like a seat?'

Shiala glared up at Matriarch Artus, who gazed down on her with unwelcome pity. Pointedly straightening herself, leg trembling from the effort, she shook her head. If she wanted a damned seat, she'd ask for one. 'Thank you for your kindness, matriarch, but I would stand in your presence.'

She'd never particularly enjoyed the formality involved in these meetings. The ancient rituals were beautiful in their own way, but Shiala was a commando; a soldier who preferred to get things _done _rather than spend all day talking about it. That was why she had always served Benezia so faithfully: unlike most of the matriarchs before her, Benezia was a woman of _action, _always out traversing the galaxy rather than staying in the comfortable locales of Thessia.

That it meant Shiala got to wear her leathers more often than her ridiculous ceremonial armour was no small bonus. She knew all of the commandos before her personally: they were all tough, experienced... but like the armour, so much of it was for show. In their position as honour guard they rarely faced any real action, because their charges rarely faced any real danger, and as such their _experience _was often decades out of practice.

Matriarch Ves nodded. Of the three, Shiala liked Ves the best. She was practical and clear in her opinions, often stating clearly what the others thought only in secret: that she wanted the asari to wield greater power. 'As you desire. As has already been said, all here have read the publicly available information about indoctrination. That such a thing could exist is troublesome enough, but that it apparently caught Benezia, one of the strongest of us, is cause for great concern. _How _it happens, we already know in theory. Shiala, any context you can add to the scientific knowledge will help us determine Benezia's fate.'

Shiala nodded in return, swallowing thickly. She did not want to relive that... _violation, _but all of those she had killed deserved better than for her to hide from what she did. If she could help any future victims, if she could help Liara and Shepard who had freed her... she _would_.

Casting back her memory, she recalled the first time she saw Sovereign. 'The first time I boarded Saren's... _Sovereign, _I... I could already feel it. A pressure at my skull, as if the sh...ship was trying to force itself into my mind. We all felt it. B-but Benezia told us it was just the unusual slopes of the walls, the sheer size of the ship imposing on us. She had already been on the ship for weeks before summoning us... I think she was already lost to us then.'

Shiala glanced to the floor, the beautiful patterns etched into it lost to her memories. 'She told us to see the _wonder _that was Saren's will, the potential of what he could achieve with such a mag... mag...'

She clenched her teeth, and slowed her voice again. '_Magnificent _ship. It was easy, then. It took only the slightest lowering of our guard... the slightest trusting of Benezia's will, and the discomfort stopped.'

'You were indoctrinated then?' Leyya asked softly.

Shiala shrugged a shoulder. 'I do not know. I don't believe so, it was just the first... _step. _I still wondered at Benezia's devotion to Saren then, though of course I did not speak out.'

A commando's place was to follow and protect, not cast judgement. Through her service Benezia's actions had often confused Shiala until years, sometimes _decades _later, and she had learned to trust the absolute wisdom of the matriarch to see things Shiala and her battle-sisters could not.

'It was _easier,_' Shiala said with a grimace, 'to simply accept Sovereign's will.'

'Sovereign's?' Ves spoke up.

With a nod, the green skinned asari continued. She would not hide the true enemy. 'It influenced Saren, who would give his orders to us through Benezia. She would... would order us to do slowly more terrible things. Th...threaten innocent people. Raid merchant ships.' Shiala took a deep breath as she saw many of the matriarchs before her shake their heads in shame. 'We... trusted her, as was our duty.'

Her features darkened as her leg began to tremble, and she leaned more of her body weight onto her cane. 'There was no sudden moment where we turned into... whatever we became. We did not become m-mindless slaves. There was no... no sense of our bodies doing something our minds did not want.'

She paused, biting back the grief at the memories of the flush of power she had felt each time she had killed an innocent, each time she did some terrible deed to help Sovereign. 'It was like a whisper at first,' she said in barely a whisper of her own, 'indistinguishable from my own sense of mor...r-rality. Some... fought. Questioned why they were doing what they were.'

'Did _you_?' Artus' voice rang out, heavy with implication.

Shiala shook her head sadly. 'I trusted L...Lady Benezia implicitly. I did everything she ordered. M...maybe that made me easier to control, because after a while the whispers stopped. There was just... _him. _His will was all that mattered. I-I can only see the evil of it now, but then... it was the most natural and beautiful thing to follow him.'

Again, Shiala forced herself to slow down, to keep herself from showing that damned speech impediment. She was about to conclude when Leyya spoke, gently. 'Did you not fight it?'

Her eye twitched. 'There was nothing to _fight, _matriarch. It... _corrupted _my very way of thinking. It...' she shook her head. 'It is diff...fficult to put into words. By the end, if Benezia had given me a gun and told me to execute a child, I would have done so without even wondering if it was _wrong._'

'It seems impossible to understand now...' She looked up at the matriarchs, seeing a mixture of judgement and pity in their eyes. 'It is insidious. No sense of myself _fading, _th...there was just Sovereign's will, stronger and stronger. I committed atrocities, matriarchs. We... we all did. Willingly and happily. Th-that is my burden to bear.'

The room fell silent for a moment. Shiala sensed Liara close by, and turned to give the maiden as much of a reassuring smile as she could manage. Liara was not aware of the full extent of what she had done under the indoctrination... of what Benezia had done. But to hide it would be to risk ire, and she could not do that. If it meant reliving memories she would sooner forget, so be it.

'Do you see yourself as responsible for your actions, Shiala?' Matriarch Leyya finally asked.

_Yes. _

She did. Every life taken. Every family torn apart. Every single action _burned _her with shame, and the knowledge that she had committed them _willingly _at the time, even if under the influence of indoctrination...

'Yes,' she answered quietly, eliciting quiet gasps from some of the matriarchs. For she was admitting that the indoctrination was no excuse for her actions. 'Understand that I remember what I did. That I remem...b-ber _wanting _to obey, and do those... _things_. But now they... _disgust _me. My own _thoughts _from then, disgust me. I... I am not a diplomat, or person of peace, matriarchs. My path in life is to fight and kill. But until then, I could... take pride in my duty. Now...' She shook her head. 'Sss...sleeping through the night is hard.'

'If you see yourself as responsible, how do you expect us to accept Benezia was _not _responsible for her own actions?' Artus asked, leaning forward onto her lectern.

Shiala bit her tongue, and looked at the ground as she gathered her thoughts... Aethyta's angry voice rang out before she could say anything. 'Were you not listening? She's saying if Nezzy... _Benezia... _was here today in Shiala's position, she'd be offering herself up for whatever punishment you decided. Because she was a _good _person, and you lot all know that.'

Shiala looked up to see Aethyta shudder. 'To have that goodness... _corrupted_... by whatever that ship did... Goddess, can you imagine anything worse? To know you did things so twisted you can't even sleep at night? I don't know the whole of what Benezia did. I don't _wanna _know. Because as far as I'm concerned, it wasn't her. It was whatever monster that _indoctrination _made her.'

She strode over to Shiala, standing supportively beside her. 'Shiala's free of it, somehow. But she'll _never _be free of what she did. We've _all _chosen to do things we'd rather not. But it sounds to me like she didn't choose at all. And as soon as she was herself again...' Aethyta shook her head angrily. 'Tell me _you'd _not feel responsible for that.'

* * *

Tali'Zorah vas Normandy rolled her shoulders again, still sore from sleep, wondering what Garrus had put everybody to action stations for. They were in allied space, surrounded by allied ships, protected by one of the most formidable military fleets and planetary defence grids in the galaxy.

But while the turian approached his responsibilities with a degree of caution following his losses on Omega, he was also not one for acting unless there was good reason to. Understanding that, she'd done everything he ordered without question: prepared the engine for heavy use, ensured all systems were clean and all non-essential subroutines paused, and had just finished discharging the residual heat in the sinks so they could enter stealth for the maximum amount of time.

Engineers Daniels and Donnelly were ready to receive orders, as was she... but first she wanted to know what was going on.

The elevator doors opened with a soft _ping _and she swiftly stepped out to hear asari voices calling from multiple terminals around the CIC. Garrus was standing at one of the stations to the side, features tense.

She strode quickly to him, speaking as she approached. 'We've done everything you ordered, Garrus, what's going on?'

His mandibles flickered angrily, and he jabbed a button on the screen before him, silencing the voices. 'There's been an attack on Thessia. A major communications hub was destroyed which has apparently crippled the majority of the planet's automated defences. Nobody knows who did it, how, or why. The asari fleet's trying to decide whether to head to Thessia, or stay at the mass relay and defend against anything that might come through.'

Tali frowned, instantly on edge. Somebody was attacking _Thessia? _'Th... that's _mad! _Nobody could hope to gain anything by attacking a species' _homeworld_ unless... _keelah_... is it the Reapers?'

Panic flushed through her, and Tali instantly began clenching her fingers together, tense and terrified. If it was... what could they do? They were just one ship, they hadn't done anything like gather the fleets they needed, or...

[We do not believe this is a Reaper attack.]

Both Tali and Garrus started at the deep, synthesised voice coming from the small speaker she had mounted on the side of her helmet. _Legion_. The geth had been nearly silent for a long time now, occasionally assisting Tali in her work, or answering questions when asked directly, but it had not actively _offered _its thoughts for weeks. Tali was still well aware that it was in her suit, always watching, but it was so easy to _ignore _when the geth was quiet...

Tali had not suffered another... _incident_... like the one in the elevator since, and wondered if Legion's silence had anything to do with it. But that was, right now, unimportant in the face of the current emergency.

Tali frowned. 'Why do you think that?'

[Attacking a species' homeworld as the opening of hostility is not an efficient use of force. It is well defended, and fleeing civilians will scatter across the galaxy. The Reapers are more likely to begin by attacking the Citadel to secure control of the mass relays, and then outlying colonies. Refugees from these attacks will flee to their homeworlds, which the Reapers will _then _attack when they can inflict the greatest casualties or gather the greatest harvest.]

A chill ran down Tali's spine at the emotionless words. 'I... _is _the Citadel under attack?'

Garrus shook his head. 'No, it seems this was an isolated incident. We don't even know if this is anything other than a random terrorist attack, or even an _accident,_ but it seems the Citadel fleet is on standby to reinforce the asari here if needed. Not that it _should _be, the asari First fleet is in the system... only the turian First is more powerful in the entire galaxy! Three dreadnoughts, fifteen cruisers and over forty frigates, all top of the line... spirits, this makes no _sense_, Tali! _Nobody's _stupid enough to attack the asari!'

The quarian looked down at her hands, tightly clamped together. 'And Shepard?'

Garrus scowled again. 'We can't reach her. The damned _trial's _today, and the building it's in blocks most outside communications. We can only hope somebody down there realises what's going on, and _interrupts _them.'

* * *

'_No Liara, you freed me, I won't go back.'_

_She was smiling. _I had not seen her smile for so long, how could I have forgotten that she _smiled _as she died?

'_Please mother! I need you!'_

_Did I sound like that? _It has been just a few years but that sweet, innocent voice full of honest, unguarded grief no longer sounds like my own, hardened by my life over the years...

'_You haven't needed me... for a long while now... you have your own life...'_

Even then, her lifeblood pumping over my hands, she tried to reassure me, to stop me from saving her, to stop me from returning her to a life of servitude to Sovereign's will.

_That _was the woman I knew from my childhood; strong and kind, not the ever-colder matriarch I eventually grew estranged from... how much of that can be blamed on her indoctrination? How much was actions she regretted?_ How much... how much was my fault, for rebelling against the path she wanted for me?_

'_Thank you, Little Wing... I'll see you again, at the dawn...'_

The image projected before us - footage from my helmet camera - slowly drops to the floor, shuddering with my grief, from a time that seems a lifetime ago. My own armoured hands, coated in rachni filth and my mother's precious blood, scramble at the image, desperate to pull off the helmet that seemed so _heavy... _

Eventually, it fades to black, the hall silent at witnessing mother's death. Faith's hand is clamped tightly around mine, unashamed at the poor protocol it represents in this place.

A single tear runs down my face, quickly brushed away by her thumb. 'I'm sorry,' she whispers.

I manage a thankful smile in return. Seeing her again like that... my most recent memories of her are cold and terrible, and though it brings pain, it was _her_ who died there, not whatever shell Sovereign made her... and there is some, however little, comfort to be found in that.

I swallow thickly in the silence. How long have we been here now? Four hours, of questioning? Five? _Longer? _Faith has constantly spoken well and respectfully to the matriarchs, always absolutely honest... much better than I could have done, or Aethyta. More than once what has been discussed has had me biting my tongue, pushing back tears, trying to remember the _good _in mother... and Faith has stayed strong through it all. For _me. _

After several minutes, Leyya speaks quietly. 'Thank you for releasing this footage to us, Spectre Shepard. We are aware of its classified nature, and the contents will never leave this room.'

She nods. 'Thank you, matriarchs. I apologise if the images were upsetting, but I believe they were important to the case at hand.'

Leyya responds with a gentle smile. 'We are none of us strangers to violence, but your concern is appreciated.'

Artus leans forward. 'I notice that video _was _heavily edited though, would the complete version not be available to us?'

Faith told me about her deal with Aria T'Loak, and whilst the concept of publicly humiliating one of my peoples' most prominent speakers is _distasteful _to say the least, Artus' constant questioning of the evidence presented, her seemingly endless campaign to doubt anything that might exonerate mother - always in that sickly sweet voice that grates my nerves - has made the idea slightly more palatable. Faith has constantly met those doubts with barely veiled contempt and casual disregard even as she treats the other matriarchs with respect, but surely that is not enough for a criminal warlord?

I still do not know what Faith plans to do to... _complete_... her plan against Artus, but I can do nothing but trust her to do what is necessary... as she always does.

Faith shifts her stance into a military parade rest, though I can see straight through her demeanor to the anger bubbling beneath. 'The sections I censored are sensitive enough that I judge their secrecy conducive to galactic stability. They are immaterial to the more important matter of Matriarch Benezia.'

'And who judges that?'

For the first time today her passive mask breaks into a frown of frustration, and..._ no... _a thin red scar splits her jaw close to the ear. She has been standing for so _long, _speaking for Benezia and myself when the duty should be mine, though I do not trust myself to speak clearly, impartially...

'_I _do.' The sections Artus referred to were anything to do with the rachni: images, spoken allusions, even vague hints... _surely there was enough there about mother? _

Artus looks angry that Faith did not try to justify herself in any way... _Goddess... _if it were any of the others asking the question she would have at least explained herself, but she just disregarded Artus' question as if a mere _inconvenience_... is this her plan? To quietly and continually demean Artus' authority in this place? Until...

I glance at the matriarch. She looks _furious!_

Ves shoots Artus a disgruntled frown, and speaks before anybody else has a chance to. 'What we saw was more than sufficient for today's purpose. However, it raised a troubling question to me. Shiala, might you again stand before us?'

After her questioning Shiala took a seat to the side of the room, taking weight off her leg, though at the words she stands instantly, taking Aethyta's arm and crossing back to my side. Matriarch Ves nods respectfully to the commando, then continues. 'Do you believe you would have been able to... _break_... yourself from the indoctrination, as Benezia appeared to in the video we just saw?'

Shiala looks pale. As does Aethyta...

_They had not seen that before._

They had not seen Benezia's death.

Her final moments... Shiala's employer and charge. Aethyta's bondmate of over a century.

_I should have shown them that before now, or at least __**told **__them!_

_Goddess, I have done so much __**wrong **__here..._

A heavy hand claps onto my shoulder, and I look up to see Aethyta standing, eyes swimming, but her face holds no condemnation, just a soft sympathy. A moment passes, before she nods up to the other matriarchs.

_She is correct, now is not the time..._

'Shiala?' Leyya prompts.

With a slow shake of her head, Shiala replies quietly. 'No. Not like th...that. My sense of self was completely gone. Only the Thorian freed me, somehow.'

'Then can you explain why was Benezia able to?' Artus asks in that horrible, sweet voice.

Shiala, looking uncomfortable, drops her gaze to the ground before Faith speaks clearly. 'I believe it is because Benezia was _stronger _than anybody else and even then only managed to keep just a few words for her daughter with her last moments.'

She squeezes my hand, reassuringly strong. 'You heard her last words. She was _glad _she was dying there. She might have committed terrible crimes when she was influenced, but she died _herself_, with her daughter there for her. Not only that, but she gave me data vital for the completion of my mission. We could not have stopped Sovereign's attack on the Citadel if it wasn't for her.'

The room falls silent for a moment, before Artus smiles in a show of sympathy that does _not _convince me - and I can see her anger just under the surface every time Faith speaks. 'As... _touching_... as the gesture was, it was rather convenient she chose _then _to help, rather than any of the times she could have stopped herself, and _saved lives._'

'She _did _save lives, more than any she could have done by stopping one of Saren's smaller attacks.' Faith snaps in return. '_Everybody _on the Citadel owes their lives to Benezia. I have no idea how she was able to break out of the indoctrination, for that moment. But she did it then, and then was the _right _time to do it for the good of the galaxy. Speculating about what she _might _have or _could _have done is pointless.'

'Pointless?' Artus bristles angrily at the implication.

_Faith, I hope you know what you are doing..._

Voice scathing, the matriarch continues, 'We all know what Benezia did. You have claimed her actions were due to indoctrination, but you present us only with this video which shows that she appears to be in complete control of her mental faculties. What then are we to believe?' She frowns. 'If you had not _killed _her then-'

'_Don't._' Faith's cold word stops the matriarch dead... draws gasps from some of the others, and even shocks me - _how could she speak like that to a matriarch?_

She points to Artus. 'I won't let you insult the memory of Benezia or her commandos by doubting what happened was _anything _other than necessary.'

'Won't _let _me? You overestimate your importance here, _human, _and we will question whatever we deem necessary to learn what we need to pass judgement, _including _the necessity of Benezia's death.'

_How can she say that?!_

Several of the matriarchs in the background begin to mutter uncomfortably._ Did Faith purposefully provoke her into saying that? No... she could not have known Artus would respond that way... Goddess, this whole trial is so horrible!_

Faith looks around. 'You misjudge your words, matriarch. Unlike you, nearly every other asari in this room has faced war in some capacity, and they all understand the respect you hold for the dead, even enemies. Insulting them should be beneath somebody of your station, and you should _know _that.'

'That's _enough_.' Leyya's voice, uncharacteristically raised, rings above all the others. 'Spectre Shepard, remember you are a _guest _here and it is not your place to judge what we should and should not do.'

I swallow uncomfortably, before Leyya turns to Artus. 'And Artus, _Goddess, _show some respect. Shepard is correct, we will not insult the deaths of Benezia and her retinue by questioning what _might _have happened.'

Artus' face blanches, and she looks around, seeing that none of the matriarchs will meet her gaze. Before the trial I pulled up her career history for Faith: she was correct that Artus has never faced war; her life has been political since she was a maiden, unlike most of the others who, as is typical for asari, spent at least several decades in the military or even mercenary bands.

_Was that what she planned? To... have Artus show her relative inexperience? Will that be enough for Aria?_

Before I can consider it, Leyya speaks again. 'I believe there is nothing further to be presented. Maiden...' she smiles softly, and corrects herself as Faith suggested earlier. '_Doctor _T'Soni, thank you for coming before us and sharing the insight of your experience. It saddens my heart to have had to speak of such things about Benezia, and I apologise if today's proceedings were upsetting.'

I bow my head, still slightly shocked by the direction the trial took. I knew there would be an element of demonisation towards mother, but some of the comments made about her were horrible... _Is it always like this?_

Leyya clasps her hands behind her back, and I instinctively straighten. Mother would stand like that whenever she was about to impart an important lesson. 'The measure of a person can be judged by those they surround themselves with, and your allies today do you great credit. The daughter of Benezia was always destined to be a powerful woman, and I saw the beginnings of that today. But be warned that despite your considerable achievement, you are still young, and it would be a terrible shame to see such promise lost to a rush to achieve even more.'

I frown. _Is that a threat? Aethyta said they sent her to spy on me... with the will to __**assassinate **__me if they deemed it necessary!_ 'I am not sure I understand, matriarch.'

She nods. 'It is not our place to tell you your path, but to offer guidance. You know that we live long lives, and this grants a perspective rare in a galaxy that can change so quickly. Your maiden years have been atypical, to say the least, and you should know there is _always _wisdom to be found in taking a moment to pause.'

_And in pausing too much you fail to see what is coming... _The bitter thought rings heavily: for all their wisdom, these people cannot see the truth of the Reapers, just like every other government. But it would not do to say so now, so I bow my head. 'Thank you for sharing your insight, matriarch. And thank you all for allowing us the privilege to stand before you.'

The matriarch smiles again. 'You are excused from our presence. We will discuss the new evidence presented, which will allow us to make an informed judgement as to Benezia's guilt, and call you back when we are ready to give our verdict.'

The four of us bow simultaneously, then turn to leave.

I can barely believe it is over. It has been _years _since she died, and now in just a few days all of those feelings, those worries and that... _loss_... has been revived, and at once put to rest _properly, _with the help of Faith, Shiala and Aethyta. _I hope our defence was enough... I should have said more!_

Faith was the speaker for the majority of our time in the grand hall.

Only once did I say more than a few words, describing the few interactions I shared with mother in the years before Faith saved me on Therum; managing to recall the cold conversations we had, my awkwardly asking for an advance on my allowance to pay for a piece of machinery I needed, or one of our increasingly brief updates on our lives to each other. The recollections reminded me just how _little _we had in common, the powerful matriarch and the silly student who could not even control her own budget...

But somehow Faith managed to make it sound... _better_... asking me to share the warmer times for comparison, speaking tales of her kindness which had more than one of the matriarchs nodding in recognition of the asari they all recognised before her work and the indoctrination took her.

I take her hand, and she flashes a warm smile, though her brow is tight with worry, and I see more than one small scar across her face. She spoke so _well_ for mother, despite not knowing her, and even having once seen her as only an enemy. With a formality and clarity I struggled with even during my brief moment, she presented all of our evidence about indoctrination and Benezia's actions to the matriarchs, for so _long.._.

_Thank you..._

And now it is over. We can do nothing but wait.

As we finally exit the hall, Aethyta strides over, and slaps Faith on the back with a wide grin. 'Damn, human, speaking to Artus like that... you've got one _hell _of a quad!'

* * *

_+Unidentified cruiser, identify yourself!+_

_+I see no military identification, and it's not broadcasting an IFF. Life support is active, there's definitely crew on board.+_

_+I repeat, this is the asari dreadnought Eternal Fate. You have illegally entered asari space and we have a target lock on you, identify yourself immediately!+_

_+It's not making any aggressive moves, but it's not stopping. Orders?+_

_+Is it even receiving our warnings?+_

_+Picking up scans... it's doing a system-wide proximity scan, all that's going to tell it is the current location of the planets, and maybe pick up some of our bigger ships.+_

_+Unidentified cruiser, this is your final warning, identify yourself!+_

_+It's a batarian hensa class ma'am, but the model's copied throughout the Terminus. Still no identifying markers or IFF detected.+_

_+Ok, Cybaen, fire a warning shot across its bow.+_

_+This is Cybaen, we're moving to position... shot fired. No reaction... belay that, detecting a minor change of course.+_

_+What's it doing? Is it aiming for any of our ships?+_

_+No ma'am, its main cannon is pointing away from us... It's powering up weapons!+_

_+Ok, I'm done negotiating. Cybaen, get clear, the Eternal Fate is going to blow this thing away. And stay out of the way of whatever it's aiming at.+_

_+Goddess! I've extrapolated its firing solution, it's not aiming for the fleet! It's-+_

_+It just fired a shot! Blow that thing out of the sky, __**now!**_

* * *

Faith narrowed her eyes on the small, glowing red split in her skin across the joint of her thumb, hand clasped around Liara's which had since stopped trembling.

There was nothing more she could do. She hoped all she had said was enough... though the dull anger she felt towards Artus had still not abated. _That _had not turned out how she wanted it to, though she had no way of predicting how the matriarch would react.

She glanced sideways at Liara, seeing the maiden's eyes wide and nervous, looking at the door to the main hall. At the movement, Liara shifted her gaze to Faith's, and smiled softly. Shepard dropped her gaze away, ashamed. 'I'm sorry Liara, I didn't mean for Artus to end up saying that about Benezia. I... I was hoping I'd get her riled up enough to attack _me, _not...'

She shook her head angrily. It was bad enough for Liara to have to go through all of this, but also to have one of the supposedly wise matriarchs insulting the manner of Benezia's death?

Liara softly touched the human's chin, and drew her gaze back. 'I... I understand. I would have preferred it did not have to happen at _all, _but Aria...'

With a grimace, Faith nodded. 'Yeah. I... I _am _sorry, to get that dragged into all of this. I wish we could have just done it without the damned _war _knocking down the door.'

Liara's face was a soft, soothing mask as she replied. 'I already said I understand.' _She always understands... _

'Besides...' the asari's features shifted into a teasing grin that seemed refreshingly out of place after all of the grief recalling Benezia's death brought up, 'watching you shout at her was rather... appealing.'

Liara dropped her head onto Shepard's shoulder, speaking softly in the quiet room. 'I... do not think I can thank you enough for today, Faith.'

Faith shifted awkwardly in her seat. She had never been comfortable receiving praise; preferring to just do her work and let those more interested take whatever credit there was... but the sheer weight of emotion in Liara's words warmed her through. She smiled. 'I'm glad they didn't go demanding things of _you_. Your politicians seem like a pretty decent bunch.'

Feeling Liara grin into her shoulder, Shepard rested her head on top of hers as the asari spoke seriously. 'Faith, you just reduced over one hundred thousand years of life and experience into "a pretty decent bunch". I feel I should be offended on their behalf.'

'Are you?'

'Not especially.'

Liara shifted slightly closer, pressing herself against Faith's body. Despite the tense expectation, a pleasant peace descended-

To be abruptly broken as heavy _thump _echoed through their senses. The couple separated themselves, and looked, brows raised, at Aethyta. The matriarch had been stomping impatiently around the small room, and her head was currently pressed against the richly decorated wall. 'Goddess, what's taking them so long?!'

'They have a lot to discuss, and-' Liara tried, before Aethyta overrode her, straightening and restarting her agitated pacing.

'Bah, don't give me that crap, Kiddo. No way they haven't already decided.'

'What makes you think that?' Liara asked, curious.

'I know how they work. They've had _years _to discuss everything already. That new stuff about indoctrination might shake them off their pedestals a bit, but chances are those who hadn't already made up their minds know that after Shepard's tongue lashing in there, they'll look like a bunch of tits if they vote her guilty now.'

'Ah...' The wordless noise dragged itself from Faith's mouth as Aethyta slowed to a halt.

The matriarch's face brightened as she caught up to her own words. 'Ha! Tongue lashing! That's a good one...'

She dropped herself into a seat opposite Faith and Liara. 'Seriously though soldier girl, you did real good in there. Not that beating the shit out of me to... _protect... _Liara wasn't enough, but stickin' up for Nezzy as well... _damn_. Keep on like that I might even think you're good enough for Liara one day.'

Faith raised an eyebrow. The odd matriarch and herself had developed... _something _of a shared respect over the past few days, but she doubted Aethyta's protectiveness would simply go away, just as her own suspicion was not abating any time soon. 'Really?'

The matriarch chuckled. 'Nah. But it can't hurt.'

'I can make my own choices, father,' Liara added, to little avail.

'Course you can! I'm still gonna disapprove the _shit _out of whoever you're dating though. Wouldn't be doing my job properly otherwise.' Aethyta leaned back, legs splayed in a graceful show of how _not _to wear a dress, and raised her voice to carry across the room. 'What d'you think, Shiala, reckon Shepard pulled it off?'

The commando, who was inspecting a case of ancient weapons mounted on the far wall, looked back. 'I hope so. Even if Artus had it com...coming, some won't like that a human put her in her place.'

'Eh.' Aethyta concluded with a shrug of her shoulders. 'Most of us were thinking the same damned thing. Speaking shit about Nezzy like that... sounded better coming from an outsider anyway.'

She grinned. 'You know Shepard, I've been out of official politics for a while but I'm pretty sure you're the first human they allowed in there. They won't be forgetting you any time soon.'

'As long as Benezia's name is cleared, and they believe us about indoctrination, they can remember me however they want,' Faith replied. While the asari matriarchs _were _better than any other government officials she'd had the misfortune to meet, she still did not particularly like dealing with them. Their lengthy rituals, ponderous pace and vaguely threatening "advice" to Liara left her distinctly uncomfortable: the asari people's unquestioning deferral to the wisdom of their elders was a mindset she had trouble accepting. To Shepard, true authority was based on experience and ability, and while many of those in the room had both in quantities humans could never hope to achieve... too many did not. _Age _was the prerequisite for being part of their group, not achievement. _I hope their military leaders are better... those matriarchs could not fight a war._

The large, ornate doors to the main hall slid open, and a stunningly beautiful asari Faith guessed was only a little older than Liara entered their chamber. 'The matriarchs are ready to announce their decision,' she said, gesturing to the hall, 'they will see you now.'

Faith stood, biting back a rush of exhilarated nervousness. There was nothing more she could do, just take the few steps and hear their judgement... yet her mind was racing with possibilities. She shook her head, banishing the worries, as she was more than adept at doing. It was a necessity for somebody with her job. She took Liara's hand, again trembling, and helped the asari to her feet, the beautiful white robe loosely wrapped around her body fluttering despite there being no breeze.

There was nothing more to say.

The four slowly made their way into the hall, the silence broken only by the tapping of Shiala's cane against the floor, abnormally loud.

As they reached their previous position, Faith looked up. The matriarchs' faces were unreadable, though she was unsurprised to see Artus' posture both slightly cowed and bristling with anger. _Was that enough for Aria? It wasn't too much, but maybe enough that next time there'll be somebody else in one of the top three spots..._

Faith couldn't worry about that either. If Aria wasn't happy, Aria wasn't happy. She would find another way to deal with it. Leyya gave a tight but welcoming smile, and Ves a respectful nod which Shepard returned.

'What we heard today has shaken the foundations of what many of us once knew as truths.' Leyya proclaimed, voice solemn and heavy.

_Just say what you decided!_

'Matriarch Benezia was one of the best of us. A true beacon for our people across the galaxy. When the extent of her crimes was unveiled, _none _of us could have imagined that it would lead to this.'

Ves took over. 'The revelation of the process of indoctrination is one that merits more discussion that these proceedings allowed for. But we did make our decision on its validity, and by extension Benezia's culpability in her own actions.'

The room fell silent, before both Ves and Leyya turned expectantly to Artus, whose face was a mask of unpleasant disgust. _Is that because she's taking some sick pleasure in this? Or because we won? God, just tell us!_

Artus managed to clear her face of emotion, though her voice was strained. 'Given what we learned before today, and taking into account what was today presented to us, this council voted... _nearly unanimously..._' She spat out the words as if they were poison, and Faith's heart picked up. Had they done it? Was Liara's mother going to be cleared? The maiden's hand again clamped tightly around Shepard's. 'That Benezia's actions _were _the result of her indoctrination.'

_Yes!_

Liara's hand tightened as Leyya's face broke into a welcome smile. 'This means that Matriarch Benezia of House T'Soni is cleared of all charges, and-'

Chaos erupted through the joyous moment.

With a deafening explosion, the richly adorned roof of the hall shattered like glass, and a massive shockwave blasted everybody in the room to the floor.

Heavy rubble began dropping all around them, and Faith, desperate, pushed herself to her hands and feet, legs feeling like jelly, the telltale symptoms of shock setting in.

Instinctively, she moved to protect that which was most precious to her.

The asari had collapsed by her side, motionless, and Faith managed to drop her body over hers to protect her from the falling rubble...

Before a small section of roof hit the side of her head with a sickening _crack, _and the world went dark.

* * *

**_A/N: _**_Thank you Jay8008 and Vector 71!_

_Another long one! From here out will be mostly action chapters for a while, with a few more chapters of totally original content then we will move into my interpretation of the events of ME3._

_Thank you as always for reading!_


End file.
